THE  LITTLE 
COLONELS  HOLIDAYS 


ANNIE  •  FELLOWS 
JOHNSTON 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 

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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

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THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS 

<T«de  Mswki 


Works  of 
ANNIE   FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 


The  Little  Colonel   Series 

{Trade  Mark,  Reg.  U.  S.  Pat.  Of.) 
Each  one  vol.,   large  12mo,  cloth,   illustrated 

The    Little    Colonel    Stories      ..... 
(Containing     in     one     volume     the     three     stories 
"  The    Little    Colonel,"    "  The    Giant    Scissors, 
and   "  Two   Little  Knights   of  Kentucky.") 

The  Little  Colonel's  House  Party   . 

The  Little   Colonel's   Holidays 

The  Little  Colonel's  Hero 

The  Little  Colonel  at  Boarding-School 

The  Little  Colonel  in  Arizona 

The  Little  Colonel's  Christmas    Vacation 

The  Little  Colonel:  Maid  of  Honor 

The  Little  Colonel's  Knight  Comes    Riding 

The  Little  Colonel's  Chum:    Mary   Ware 

Mary  Ware    in    Texas      .... 

Mary  Ware's    Promised    Land 

The  above  12   vols.,   boxed,  as  a  set 


The  Little  Colonel  Good  Times   Book 

The  Little  Colonel  Doll  Book — First    Series    . 

The  Little  Colonel  Doll  Book — Second    Series 

Illustrated  Holiday  Edition 

The  Little  Colonel  Stories         . 

(With  16  plates  in  full  color,  and  many  marginal 
cuts  in  tints.) 

Cosy  Corner  Series 
Each  one  vol.,  thin  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated 
The   Little    Colonel 
The   Giant   Scissors 
Two  Little  Knights  of  Kentucky 
Big  Brother     .... 
Ole  Mammy's  Torment   . 
The  Story  of  Dago 
Cicely      ..... 
Aunt  'Liza's  Hero 
The  Quilt  that  Jack  Built 
Flip's  "  Islands  of  Providence  " 
Mildred's    Inheritance 
The  Little  Man  in  Motley 

Other  Books 

The  Story  of  the  Red  Cross    .  . 

Joel:    A  Boy  of  Galilee    .  . 

The   Road  of  the  Loving  Heart 

In  the  Desert  of  Waiting 

The   Three   Weavers 

Keeping  Tryst 

The  Legend  of  the  Bleeding  Heart 

The  Rescue  of  the  Princess  Winsome 

The  Jester's   Sword  .  . 

Asa   Holmes  .... 

Travelers  Five  Along  Life's  Highway 


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THE    PAGE    COMPANY 
53  Beacon  Street  Boston,  Mass. 


M  AUNT    CINDY    DARTED    AN    ANGRY    LOOK    AT    HER    SWORN 


ENEMY. 


{Set  page  ttf 


Cfte  Cittle  Colonel's 
holidays 


L&4 


By  ANNIE  FELLOWS  JOHNSTON 

Author  of  "  The  Little  Colonel,"  "  Two  Ltttle  Knights 

of  Kentucky,"  "  The  Story  of  Dago,"  "  The  Little 

Colonel's  House  Party,"  etc. 


Illustrated  by  L.  J.  BRIDGMAN 


m 


BOSTON 
COMPANY 


THE    PAGE 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  igoi 
By  The  Page  Company 

All  rights  reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


Twenty-eighth  Impression,  February,  1923 


PRINTED  BY   C.  H.  SIMONDS   COMPANY 
BOSTON,  MASS.,  U.S. A. 


s'QTt)z  EtttU  ffiaptam"  atrtf  Ijfs  gfgters 

WHOSE   PROUDEST   HERITAGE   IS  THAT 

THEY   BEAR  THE   NAME  OF  A 

NATION'S  HERO. 


908932 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  *AGE 

I.    The  Magic  Kettle u 

II.  The  End  of  the  Summer     .        .        .        .17 

III.  Back  to  the  Cuckoo's  Nest        ,        .        .31 

IV.  To  Barley -bright         .     '  .        .        .        .46 
V.    A  Time  for  Patience 60 

VI.  Molly's  Story        ......      74 

VII.  A  Feast  of  Sails  ......      91 

VIII.  Eugenia  Joins  the  Search  .        .        .        .105 

IX.     Left  Behind 116 

X.  Home -lessons  and  Jack-o'-lanterns       .     129 

XI.    A  Hallowe'en  Party 146 

XII.  The  Home  of  a  Hero   .        .        .                 .     164 

XIII.  The  Day  after  Thanksgiving     .        .        .     180 

XIV.  Lloyd  Makes  a  Discovery  .  200 
XV.     A  Happy  Christmas 216 

XVI.  A  Peep  into  the  Future    .        .        .       .231 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


"  Aunt  Cindy  darted  an  angry    look    at    her 

SWORN  enemy"  {seepage  2J).         .         .        Frontispiece 

"TO  THEIR  EXCITED  FANCY  SHE  SEEMED  A  REAL 

WITCH" 57 

"The  picture  passed  around  the  circle"  .  .103 
"The  plan  worked  like  a  charm"       .        .        .130 

"She  began  the  old  rhyme" 159 

The  Butterfly  Carnival  .  .  .  .  .183 
" «  Oh,  wha t  is  your  name ? '"  .  .  .  .  208 
"  The  little  hand  held  hers  "  226 


THE    LITTLE    COLONEL'S 

(Trade  Mark) 

HOLIDAYS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   MAGIC    KETTLE. 

Once  upon  a  time,  so  the  story  goes  (you  may 
read  it  for  yourself  in  the  dear  old  tales  of  Hans 
Christian  Andersen),  there  was  a  prince  who  dis- 
guised himself  as  a  swineherd.  It  was  to  gain  ad- 
mittance to  a  beautiful  princess  that  he  thus  came 
in  disguise  to  her  father's  palace,  and  to  attract  her 
attention  he  made  a  magic  caldron,  hung  around  with 
strings  of  silver  bells.  Whenever  the  water  in  the 
caldron  boiled  and  bubbled,  the  bells  rang  a  little 
tune  to  remind  her  of  him, 

**  Oh,  thou  dear  Augustine, 
All  is  lost  and  gone," 

they  sang.     Such  was  the  power  of  the  magic  kettle, 
that  when  the  water  bubbled  hard  enough  to  set  the 


12  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

bells  a-tinkling,  any  one  holding  his  hand  in  the 
steam  could  smell  what  was  cooking  in  every  kitchen 
in  the  kingdom. 

It  has  been  many  a  year  since  the  swineherd's 
kettle  was  set  a-boiling  and  its  string  of  bells  a-jin- 
gling  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  a  princess,  but  a  time 
has  come  for  it  to  be  used  again.  Not  that  anybody 
nowadays  cares  to  know  what  his  neighbour  is  going  to 
have  for  dinner,  but  all  the  little  princes  and  prin- 
cesses in  the  kingdom  want  to  know  what  happened 
next. 

"  What  happened  after  the  Little  Colonel's  house 
party  ? "  they  demand,  and  they  send  letters  to  the 
Valley  by  the  score,  asking  "  Did  Betty  go  blind  ?  " 
"  Did  the  two  little  Knights  of  Kentucky  ever  meet 
Joyce  again  or  find  the  Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors  ?  " 
Did  the  Little  Colonel  ever  have  any  more  good 
times  at  Locust,  or  did  Eugenia  ever  forget  that  she 
too  had  started  out  to  build  a  Road  of  the  Loving 
Heart  ? 

It  would  be  impossible  to  answer  all  these  ques- 
tions through  the  post-office,  so  that  is  why  the 
magic  kettle  has  been  dragged  from  its  hiding-place 
after  all  these  years,  and  set  a-boiling  once  more. 
Gather  in  a  ring  around  it,  all  you  who  want  to 
know,  and  pass  your   curious   fingers   through   its 


THE  MAGIC  KETTLE.  1 3 

wreaths  of  rising  steam.  Now  you  shall  see  the 
Little  Colonel  and  her  guests  of  the  house  party  in 
turn,  and  the  bells  shall  ring  for  each  a  different 
song. 

But  before  they  begin,  for  the  sake  of  some  who 
may  happen  to  be  in  your  midst  for  the  first  time,  and 
do  not  know  what  it  is  all  about,  let  the  kettle  give 
them  a  glimpse  into  the  past,  that  they  may  be  able  to 
understand  all  that  is  about  to  be  shown  to  you. 
Those  who  already  know  the  story  need  not  put  their 
fingers  into  the  steam,  until  the  bells  have  rung  this 
explanation  in  parenthesis. 

(In  Lloydsboro  Valley  stands  an  old  Southern  man- 
sion,  known  as  "  Locust."  The  place  is  named  for 
a  long  avenue  of  giant  locust-trees,  stretching  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  from  house  to  entrance  gate,  in  a 
great  arch  of  green.  Here  for  years  an  old  Confed- 
erate colonel  lived  all  alone  save  for  the  negro  ser- 
vants. His  only  child,  Elizabeth,  had  married  a  North- 
ern man  against  his  wishes,  and  gone  away.  From  that 
day  he  would  not  allow  her  name  to  be  spoken  in  his 
presence.  But  she  came  back  to  the  Valley  when  her 
little  daughter  Lloyd  was  five  years  old.  People  be- 
gan calling  the  child  the  Little  Colonel  because  she 
seemed  to  have  inherited  so  many  of  her  grand- 
father's lordly  ways  as  well  as  a  goodly  share  of  his 


14  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

high  temper.  The  military  title  seemed  to  suit  her 
better  than  her  own  name,  for  in  her  fearless  baby 
fashion  she  won  her  way  into  the  old  man's  heart, 
and  he  made  a  complete  surrender. 

Afterward  when  she  and  her  mothei  and  "  Papa 
Jack "  went  to  live  with  him  at  Locust,  one  of 
her  favourite  games  was  playing  soldier.  The  old 
man  never  tired  of  watching  her  march  through  the 
wide  halls  with  his  spurs  strapped  to  her  tiny  slipper 
heels,  and  her  dark  eyes  flashing  out  fearlessly  frorr. 
under  the  little  Napoleon  cap  she  wore. 

She  was  eleven  when  she  gave  her  house  party. 
One  of  the  guests  was  Joyce  Ware,  whom  some  of 
you  have  met,  perhaps,  in  "The  Gate  of  the  Giant 
Scissors,"  a  bright  thirteen-year-old  girl  from  the 
West.  Eugenia  Forbes  was  another.  She  was  a  dis- 
tant cousin  of  Lloyd's,  who  had  no  home-life  like  the 
other  girls.  Her  winters  were  spent  in  a  fashion- 
able New  York  boarding-school,  and  her  summers 
at  the  Waldorf-Astoria,  except  the  few  weeks  when 
her  busy  father  could  find  time  to  take  her  to 
some  seaside  resort. 

The  third  guest,  Elizabeth  Lloyd  Lewis,  or  Betty, 
as  every  one  lovingly  called  her,  was  Mrs.  Sherman's 
little  god-daughter.  She  was  an  orphan,  boarding 
on  a  backwoods   farm  on   Green   River.     She   had 


THE   MAGIC  KETTLE.  1 5 

never  been  on  the  cars  until  Lloyd's  invitation  found 
its  way  to  the  Cuckoo's  Nest.  Only  these  three 
came  to  stay  in  the  house,  but  Malcolm  and  Keith 
Maclntyre  (the  two  little  Knights  of  Kentucky) 
were  there  nearly  every  day.  So  was  Rob  Moore, 
one  of  the  Little  Colonel's  summer  neighbours. 

The  four  Bobs  were  four  little  fox  terrier  puppies 
named  for  Rob,  who  had  given  one  to  each  of  the 
girls.  They  were  so  much  alike  they  could  only  be 
distinguished  by  the  colour  of  the  ribbons  tied  around 
their  necks.  Tarbaby  was  the  Little  Colonel's 
pony,  and  Lad  the  one  that  Betty  rode  during  her 
visit. 

After  six  weeks  of  picnics  and  parties,  and  all  sorts 
of  surprises  and  good  times,  the  house  party  came  to 
a  close  with  a  grand  feast  of  lanterns.  Joyce  regret- 
fully went  home  to  the  little  brown  house  in  Plains- 
ville,  Kansas,  taking  her  Bob  with  her.  Eugenia 
and  her  father  went  to  New  Yoik,  but  not  until  they 
had  promised  to  come  back  for  Betty  in  the  fall,  and 
take  her  abroad  with  them.  It  was  on  account  of 
something  that  had  happened  at  the  house  party,  but 
which  is  too  long  a  tale  to  repeat  here. 

Betty  stayed  on  at  Locust  until  the  end  of  the 
summer  in  the  House  Beautiful,  as  she  called  her 
godmother's  home,  and  here  on  the  long  vine-covered 


1 6  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

porch,  with  its  stately  white  pillars,  you  shall  see  them 
first  through  the  steam  of  the  magic  caldron.) 

Listen !     Now  the  kettle  boils  a'wd  the  bells  begin 
the  story  1 


CHAPTER  It 

THE   END    OF   THE    SUMMER. 

M  Oh,  the  sun  shines  bright  on  my  old  Kentucky  home, 
'Tis  summer,  the  darkies  are  gay, 
The  corn-top's  ripe  and  the  meadows  are  in  bloom, 
And  the  birds  make  music  all  the  day." 

It  was  Malcolm  who  started  the  old  tune,  thrum- 
ming a  soft  accompaniment  on  his  banjo,  as  he  sat 
leaning  against  one  of  the  great  white  pillars  of  the 
vine-covered  porch.  Then  Betty,  swinging  in  a  ham- 
mock with  a  new  St.  Nicholas  in  her  lap,  began  to 
hum  with  him.  Rob  Moore,  sitting  on  the  step 
below,  took  it  up  next,  whistling  it  softly,  but  the 
Little  Colonel  and  Keith  went  on  talking. 

It  was  a  warm  September  afternoon,  and  all  down 
the  long  avenue  of  giant  locust-trees  there  was 
scarcely  a  leaf  astir.  Keith  fanned  himself  with  his 
hat  as  he  talked. 

"  I  wish  schools  had  never  been  invented,"  he 
exclaimed,  "  or  else  there  was  a  law  that  they 
couldn't  begin  until  cold  weather.     It  makes  me  wild 

17 


1 8  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

when  I  think  of  having  to  go  back  to  Louisville 
to-morrow  and  begin  lessons  in  that  hot  old  town. 
Lloyd,  I  don't  believe  that  you  are  half  thankful 
enough  for  being  able  to  live  in  the  country  all  the 
year  round." 

"  But  it  isn't  half  so  nice  out  heah  aftah  you  all 
leave,"  answered  the  Little  Colonel.  "You  don't 
know  how  lonesome  the  Valley  is  with  you  all  gone. 
I  can't  beah  to  pass  Judge  Moore's  place  for  weeks 
aftah  the  house  is  closed  for  the  season.  It  makes 
me  feel  as  if  somebody's  dead  when  I  see  every  win- 
dow shut  and  all  the  blinds  down.  When  Betty  goes 
home  next  week  I  don't  know  how  I  shall  stand  it 
to  be  all  by  myself.  This  has  been  such  a  lovely 
summah." 

"  We've  had  some  jolly  good  times,  that's  a  fact," 
answered  Keith  with  a  sigh,  to  think  that  they  were 
so  nearly  over.  Then  beating  time  with  his  foot  to  the 
music  of  Malcolm's  banjo,  he  began  to  sing  with  the 
others : 

" «  Oh,  weep  no  more,  my  lady,  weep  no  more  to-day. 
We  will  sing  one  song  for  my  old  Kentucky  home, 
For  my  old  Kentucky  home  far  away.' " 

Something  in  the  mournful  melody,  coupled  with 
the  thought  that  this  was  the  end  of  the  summer, 


THE  END    OF  THE  SUMMER.  1 9 

and  the  last  of  such  visits  to  beautiful  old  Locust  for 
many  a  long  day,  touched  each  face  with  a  little 
shade  of  sadness.  For  several  minutes  after  the  last 
note  of  the  song  died  away  no  one  spoke.  The  only 
sounds  were  the  bird  -  calls,  and  the  voices  of  the 
cook's  grandchildren,  who  were  playing  on  the  other 
side  of  the  house. 

As  in  many  old  Southern  mansions,  the  kitchen  at 
Locust  was  a  room  some  distance  back  from  the 
house.  In  the  path  that  led  from  one  to  the  other, 
three  little  darkies  were  romping  and  tumbling  over 
each  other  like  three  black  kittens. 

Fat  old  Aunt  Cindy,  waddling  into  the  pantry 
to  flour-bin  or  sugar-barrel,  glanced  at  them  occa- 
sionally through  the  open  window  to  see  that  they 
were  in  no  mischief,  and  then  went  calmly  on  with 
her  baking.  She  knew  that  they  were  not  like  white 
children  who  need  a  nurse  to  watch  every  step. 
They  had  taken  care  of  themselves  and  each  other 
from  the  time  that  they  had  learned  to  crawl. 

In  Aunt  Cindy'a  slow  journeys  around  the  kitchen, 
she  stopped  from  time  to  time  to  open  the  oven  door 
and  peep  in.  Finally  she  flung  it  wide  open,  and, 
with  a  satisfied  grunt,  took  out  a  big  square  pan.  A 
warm  delicious  odour  filled  the  kitchen,  and  floated 
out  around  the  house  to  the  group  on  the  porch. 


20  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  I  smell  gingerbread  ! '  exclaimed  Rob,  starting 
up  and  sniffing  the  air  excitedly  with  his  short 
freckled    nose. 

"  Me  too  ! "  exclaimed  Keith.  "  It's  the  best  thing 
I  ever  smelled  in  my  life.  Doesn't  it  make  you 
hungry  ? " 

"  Fairly  starved  !  "  answered  Malcolm. 

Lloyd  tiptoed  to  the  end  of  the  porch  and  listened. 
"  If  Aunt  Cindy's  singin'  one  of  her  old  camp-meetin' 
tunes  then  I'd  know  she  was  feelin'  good,  and  I 
wouldn't  mind  tellin'  her  that  we  wanted  the  whole 
pan  full.  But  if  she  happened  to  be  in  one  of  her 
black  tempahs  I  wouldn't  da'h  ask  for  a  crumb.  She 
always  grumbles  if  she  has  to  cut  a  cake  while  it's 
hot.  She  says  it  spoils  them.  No,  she  isn't  singin* 
a  note." 

"  Somebody  might  slip  it  out  while  she  isn't  look- 
ing," suggested  Rob.  "  I'd  offer  to  try,  but  Aunt 
Cindy  seems  to  have  a  grudge  against  me.  She 
cracked  me  over  the  head  one  day  with  a  gourd  dip- 
per, because  I  spilled  molasses  on  the  pantry  floor. 
We  wanted  to  make  some  candy,  and  Lloyd  sent  me 
in  through  the  window  to  get  it.  I  dropped  the  jug, 
and  Aunt  Cindy  charged  at  me  so  furiously  that  I 
went  out  of  that  window  a  sight  faster  than  I  came 
in.     Whew  !    I  can  feel  that  whack  yet !  "  he  added, 


THE  END   OF  THE  SUMMER.  %l 

screwing  up  his  face,  and  rubbing  his  head.  "  You'd 
better  believe  I've  kept  out  of  her  reach  ever  since." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  let's  do,"  suggested  Keith, 
growing  hungrier  every  minute  as  he  snuffed  that 
tantalising  fragrance.  "  Let's  play  that  Aunt  Cindy 
is  an  ogre,  a  dreadful  old  fat  black  ogre,  and  the  gin- 
gerbread is  some  kind  of  a  magic  cake  that  will  break 
the  spell  she  has  cast  over  us,  if  we  can  only  manage 
to  get  it  and  eat  some." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  agreed  Rob,  eagerly,  "  Don't  you 
remember  the  story  that  Joyce  used  to  tell  us  about 
the  Giant  Scissors  that  could  do  anything  they  were 
bidden,  if  the  command  were  only  given  in  rhyme  ? 
Whoever  rescues  the  cake  will  be  the  magic  Scissors. 
We  can  draw  lots  to  see  who  will  be  it.  Make  up  a 
rhyme  somebody." 

44  Giant  Scissahs,  so  bewitching 
Get  the  cake  out  of  the  kitchen !  " 

ventured  the  Little  Colonel  after  a  moment's  thought, 

44  Giant  Scissors,  for  our  sake 
Will  you  please  to  take  the  cake." 

added  Malcolm,  while  Betty  followed  with  the  sug 
gestion : 

44  Giant  Scissors,  rush  ahead 
And  bring  us  back  the  gingerbread." 


22  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"That's  the  best  one,"  said  Rob,  "for  that  calls 
the  article  that  we're  starving  for  by  name.  Now 
we'll  draw  lots  and  see  who  has  to  play  the  part  of 
the  Scissors  and  storm  old  GruffanufFs  castle." 

Carefully  arranging  five  blades  of  grass  between 
his  thumbs,  he  passed  around  the  circle,  saying,  "  The 
one  who  draws  the  shortest  piece  has  to  be  *  it.' " 
There  was  a  shout  from  all  the  others  and  a 
groan  from  himself  when  he  discovered  that  the 
shortest  piece  had  been  left  between  his  own 
thumbs. 

"I'll  have  to  put  on  my  thinking  cap  and  plan 
some  way  to  get  it  by  strategy,"  he  exclaimed,  drop- 
ping down  on  the  steps  again  to  consider.  "  I 
wouldn't  brave  Aunt  Cindy  in  single  combat  any 
more  than  I'd  beard  a  lion  in  his  den.  Help  me 
think  of  something,  all  of  you." 

Just  then  the  three  little  pickaninnies,  who  had 
been  playing  in  the  path  by  the  kitchen  door,  ran 
around  the  corner  of  the  porch  in  hot  pursuit  of  a 
grasshopper. 

"Here,  Pearline,"  called  Rob,  beckoning  to  the 
largest  and  blackest  of  them.  The  child  stopped 
and  came  slowly  toward  him.  Her  head,  with  its 
ti^ht  little  braids  of  wool  sticking  out  in  all  direc- 
4ons  like  tails,  was  tipped  shyly  to  one  side.     One 


THE  END   OF  THE  SUMMER,  2% 

finger  wa  ,  in  her  mouth.  With  the  other  hand  she 
was  nervously  plucking  at  the  skirt  of  her  red  calico 
dress. 

"  What's  your  gran'mammy  doing  now  ?  '*  inquired 
Rob. 

"  Beatin'  aigs  in  de  kitchen."  Pearline  was 
wriggling  and  screwing  her  little  black  toes  around 
in  the  dust  as  she  answered,  almost  overcome  with 
embarrassment. 

"  Pearline,"  said  Rob,  lowering  his  voice  impress- 
ively, "do  you  think  that  you  could  slip  into  the 
kitchen  as  e-easy  as  a  creep-mouse  and  tiptoe  into 
*"he  pantry  behind  your  gran' mammy's  back  and  pass 
that  pan  of  gingerbread  out  through  the  window  to 
me  while  she  isn't  looking  ?  I'll  give  you  a  nickel  if 
you'll  try." 

Pearline  gave  a  swift  inquiring  look  toward  the 
Little  Colonel,  and  seeing  her  nod  consent,  she 
turned  to  Rob  with  a  delighted  flash  of  white  teetfe 
and  eye-balls. 

"  Yessa,  Mist  Rob.  I  kin  do  it  if  you'll  come  whilst 
she's  makin'  a  racket  beatin'  aigs.  But  she'll  bus' 
my  haid  open  suah,  if  she  cotch  me." 

"  Mothah  doesn't  care  if  we  have  the  gingahbread," 
said  the  Little  Colonel,  and  Rob  added,  reassuringly, 
"We  won't  let  her  touch  you.     Now  I'm  going  all 


24        the  little,  colonels  holidays. 

the  way  around  by  the  spring-house,  so  she  cai  't  see 
me,  for  I'm  her  sworn  enemy.  When  I  get  under 
the  pantry  window  I'll  call  like  some  bird  —  say  a 
pewee.  When  you  hear  that,  Pearline,  you  just 
come  a-jumping.  She  always  sets  the  things  out  on 
that  shelf  under  the  pantry  window  to  cool,  and  you 
slip  in  and  pass  that  gingerbread  out  to  me  before 
she  has  time  to  guess  what's  happened." 

Rob  started  off,  and  a  moment  later  the  clear  call 
of  "pewee"  floated  up  from  under  the  pantry  win- 
dow, to  the  waiting  group  on  the  porch.  "  Come  on, 
let's  see  the  ogre  get  him,"  called  Keith.  Just  as 
they  rushed  around  the  corner  of  the  house  they 
heard  a  scream,  and  then  a  mighty  clatter  of  falling 
tinware  in  the  kitchen  made  them  pause. 

There  was  a  scurry  of  flying  feet  through  the 
orchard,  and  a  snapping  of  dry  twigs.  Rob  had 
made  his  escape  with  the  gingerbread,  but  hapless 
Pearline  had  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  the  ogre. 
Only  for  a  moment,  however.  Through  the  window 
came  a  flash  of  red  calico,  and  up  the  path  two  bare 
black  legs  went  flying  like  run-away  windmills. 
The  broad  slap-slap  of  Aunt  Cindy's  pursuing  slipper 
soles  followed,  but  it  was  an  uneven  race.  Pearline, 
wasting  not  a  single  breath  in  outcry,  fled  around 
the  house  and  down  the  avenue  like  a  swift  black 


THE  END   OF   THE   SUMMER,  25 

shadow,  and  her  panting  pursuer  was  left  to  hold  her 
fat.  sides  in  helpless  wrath. 

"just  you  wait  till  I  get  my  hands  on  you,  chile," 
she  called  with  an  angry  toss  of  her  white-turbaned 
head.  "  I'll  make  you  sma't !  I'll  learn  you  to  come 
carryin'  off  white  folkses  vittles  an'  scarin'  me  out  of 
my  seven  senses !  " 

"  No,  Aunt  Cindy,  you  sha'n't  touch  her !  You 
mustn't  do  a  thing  to  Pearline,"  called  the  Little 
Colonel,  meeting  her  squarely  in  the  path  and  stamp- 
ing her  foot.  "  It's  all  ou'  fault,  because  we  sent  her, 
and  it  was  Rob  who  carried  off  the  gingahbread. 
There  he  comes  now." 

Aunt  Cindy  darted  an  angry  look  at  her  sworn 
enemy,  as  he  came  up  with  hands  and  mouth  both 
full.  Then  facing  the  children,  with  her  hands  on 
her  hips,  she  launched  into  such  a  scolding  as  only 
an  old  black  mammy,  who  has  faithfully  served  three 
generations  of  a  family,  is  permitted  to  give. 

"  For  mercy  sakes,  Aunt  Cindy,  what  are  you 
making  such  a  fuss  for  ? "  exclaimed  Keith.  "  It's 
all  your  own  fault.  You  know  as  well  as  we  do 
that  nobody  in  the  Valley  can  make  cake  as  good  as 
yours.  You  oughtn't  to  have  tempted  us  with  such 
delicious  gingerbread.  It's  the  best  I  ever  tasted." 
Here  he  stuffed  his  mouth  full  again,  with  an  ecstatic 


26  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  Yuni,  but  that's  good,"  and  passed  the  plate  back  to 
Betty. 

There  was  no  resisting  the  flattery  of  Keith's 
expression  as  he  swallowed  the  stolen  sweets.  A 
grim  smile  twitched  Aunt  Cindy's  black  face,  but  to 
hide  the  fact  that  her  vanity  had  been  touched  by  the 
chorus  of  unstinted  praise  which  followed  Keith's 
compliments,  she  began  flapping  her  face  with  her 
gingham  apron. 

"  Oh,  you  go  'long ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  gruff 
voice.  But  knowing  Aunt  Cindy,  they  knew  that 
they  had  appeased  her,  and  even  Pearline  need  no 
longer  fear  her  wrath,  although  she  grumbled  loudly 
all  the  way  back  to  her  savoury  kitchen. 

They  carried  the  plate  around  to  the  porch,  fol- 
lowed by  the  three  Bobs  in  their  big  bows  of  yellow, 
pink,  and  green,  who  tumbled  around  their  feet,  beg- 
ging for  crumbs  until  the  last  one  was  eaten,  and 
then  curled  up  in  the  hammock  beside  Betty. 

"  I  wonder  what  we'll  be  doing  ten  years  from 
now,"  said  Malcolm,  as  he  picked  up  his  banjo  again 
and  began  striking  soft  chords.  He  was  looking 
dreamily  clown  the  long  locust  avenue  where  the 
afternoon  shadows  were  lengthening  across  the 
lawn. 

"  I'll  be  through  college  by  that  time,  and  Rob 


THE  END  OF  THE  SUMMER.  2J 

and  Keith  will  be  starting  back  for  their  junior  year. 
You  girls  will  be  out  in  society  probably,  and  old 
Aunt  Cindy  will  surely  be  dead  and  gone.  I  wonder 
if  we'll  ever  sit  here  together  again  and  talk  about 
old  times  and  laugh  over  this  afternoon  —  the  way 
Pearline  flew  through  that  window.  Wasn't  it 
funny  ?  " 

"  I  am  more  interested  in  what  I  may  be  doing 
ten  weeks  from  now,"  said  Betty.  "I  haven't  an 
idea  whether  I'll  be  in  London  or  Paris  or  the  Black 
Forest.  I  don't  know  where  Cousin  Carl  expects  to 
take  us  first.  But  I'd  rather  not  know.  The  whole 
trip  is  sure  to  be  full  of  delightful  surprises  as  a 
fruit-cake  is  of  goodies.  I'd  rather  happen  on  them 
as  they  come,  than  crumble  it  up  to  find  what 
there'll  be  ten  bites  ahead." 

"Well,  I  know  what  I'll  be  doing,"  said  the  Little 
Colonel,  decidedly.  "  School  begins  then,  and  it  will 
be  the  same  old  things  ovah  and  ovah  again. 
Music  lessons,  practice  an'  school ;  school  an'  prac- 
tice an'  music  lessons.  Oh,  I  know  what  is  ahead  of 
me.     All  plain  cake  without  a  single  plum  in  it." 

"  Don't  be  so  sure  of  that,  little  daughter,"  said  a 
pleasant  voice  in  the  doorway,  and  looking  up,  they 
saw  Mrs.  Sherman  standing  there  with  an  open 
letter  in  her  hand.     "We  can  never  be  sure  of  our 


28  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

to-morrows,  or  even  our  to-days,  and  here  is  a  surprise 
for  you  to  begin  with,  Lloyd." 

Malcolm  sprang  up  to  bring  her  a  chair,  and  Lloyd 
tumbled  the  Bobs  out  of  the  hammock  that  she 
might  take  their  place  beside  Betty,  while  she 
listened  to  the  reading  of  the  letter. 

"  It  is  from  Mrs.  Appleton  —  from  your  Cousin 
Hetty,"  began  Mrs.  Sherman,  turning  to  Betty.  "  I 
wrote  her  that  you  wanted  to  go  back  to  the  farm 
a  little  while  before  starting  abroad  with  Eugenia 
and  her  father,  and  this  is  her  answer.  She  has 
invited  Lloyd  and  me  to  go  with  you  for  a  short 
visit." 

"  Oh,  godmother  !  And  you'll  go  ?  "  cried  Betty, 
nearly  spilling  Lloyd  out  of  the  hammock  as  she 
sprang  up  in  joyful  surprise.  "  You  don't  know  how 
I've  dreaded  leaving  you  and  dear  old  Locust.  It 
will  not  be  half  so  hard  if  you  can  go  with  me,  and  1 
want  you  both  to  see  Davy  and  all  the  places  I've 
talked  about  so  often." 

"  But  how  can  I  miss  school,  mothah  ? "  cried  the 
Little  Colonel.     "  I'll  fall  behind  in  all  my  classes." 

"  Not  so  far  but  that  you  can  make  it  up  afterward 
by  a  little  extra  study.  Besides,  you  will  be  going  to 
school  every  day  that  you  are  away.  I  don't  mean 
the  kind  you  are  thinking  of,"  she  hastened  to  say, 


THE  END   OF  THE  SUMMER.  29 

seeing  the  look  of  wonder  in  Lloyd's  eyes.  "But 
every  day  will  be  a  school  day  and  you'll  learn  more 
of  some  things  than  all  your  books  can  teach  you. 
There  are  all  sorts  of  lessons  waiting  for  you  in  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest." 

Lloyd  and  Betty  gave  each  other  a  delighted  hug 
while  Rob  remarked,  mournfully,  "  I  wish  my  father 
and  mother  wanted  me  to  have  some  school  days 
that  are  all  holidays.  Think,  of  it,  boys,  not  a  line 
of  Latin." 

The  five  o'clock  train  came  rumbling  down  the 
track  with  a  shrill  warning  whistle,  as  it  passed  the 
entrance  gate  at  Locust. 

"It  is  time  to  go,  Keith,"  exclaimed  Malcolm. 
"You  know  we  promised  grandmother  and  Aunt 
Allison  to  be  back  at  half-past  five.  We  must  say 
good-bye  now,  for  ten  whole  months." 

"It  will  be  longer  than  that  for  me,"  said  Betty, 
wistfully,  as  the  boys  came  up  to  shake  hands. 
"  There  is  no  telling  what  will  happen  with  the  ocean 
between  us.  But  no  matter  where  I  go,  I'll  never 
forget  how  lovely  you  have  all  been  to  me  this 
summer,  and  I'll  always  think  of  this  as  the  dearest 
spot  on  earth,  —  my  old  Kentucky  home." 

They  watched  the  three  boys  go  strolling  off  down 
the  avenue,  shoulder  to  shoulder,  feeling  that  all  the 


30  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

good  times  were  disappearing  with  them.  Then 
they  fell  to  talking  of  the  Cuckoo's  Nest,  and  mak- 
ing plans  for  their  visit.  But  what  happened  there 
must  wait  to  be  told  at  the  second  bubbling  of  the 
caldron  and  another  ringing  of  the  bells. 


CHAPTER  III. 

BACK  TO  THE  CUCKOO'S  NEST. 

It  was  very  early  on  a  bright  September  morning 
that  Mrs.  Sherman,  Betty,  and  Lloyd  took  the  train 
for  the  Cuckoo's  Nest ;  but  there  was  such  a  long 
time  to  wait  at  the  little  way  station  where  they 
changed  cars,  that  it  was  nearly  sundown  when  they 
came  to  the  end  of  their  journey. 

Mr.  Appleton  was  waiting  for  them  with  the  big 
farm  wagon,  into  which  he  lifted  Betty's  Bob,  whin- 
ing in  his  hamper,  Mrs.  Sherman's  trunk,  and  then 
Betty's  shabby  little  leather  one  that  had  gone  away 
half  empty.  It  was  coming  back  now,  nearly  bursting 
with  all  that  her  godmother  had  packed  into  it  with 
the  magic  necklace,  "for  love's  sweet  sake." 

"  Shall  we  have  to  wait  long  for  the  carriage  ? " 
asked  Lloyd,  shading  her  eyes  with  her  hand  to  look 
down  the  dusty  road.  "There  is  nothing  in  sight 
now." 

Mr.  Appleton  gave  a  hearty  laugh  as  he  pointed 
with  his  whip  to  the  wagon.     "  That's  the  kind  of  a 

3* 


32  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

carriage  folks  ride  in  out  here,"  he  said.  "  I  reckon 
you  never  rode  in  one  before.  Well,  it  will  be  a 
new  experience  for  you,  for  it  jolts  considerable.  I 
couldn't  put  in  more  than  one  spring  seat  on  account 
of  the  trunks,  but  there's  room  enough  for  you  and 
your  ma  beside  me,  and  I  brought  along  a  little  stool 
for  Betty  to  sit  on." 

Lloyd's  face  flushed  at  her  mistake,  and  she  was 
very  quiet  as  they  drove  along.  The  wagon  did 
"jolt  considerable,"  as  Mr.  Appleton  said,  and  she 
wondered  if  she  should  find  everything  as  queer 
during  her  visit  as  this  ride  from  the  railroad  station 
to  the  house.  The  spring  seat  was  so  high  that  her 
feet  dangled  helplessly.  She  could  not  touch  the 
floor  of  the  wagon  bed  even  with  her  toes.  Every  time 
they  went  down  a  hill  she  had  to  clutch  her  mother's 
arm  to  keep  from  pitching  forward  on  top  of  Betty, 
seated  on  the  low  stool  at  her  feet. 

Betty  was  quiet,  too,  thinking  how  much  had 
happened  in  the  three  months  since  she  had  passed 
along  that  road.  She  had  gone  away  in  a  sunbonnet, 
with  an  old-fashioned  brown  wicker  basket  on  her 
arm,  and  a  feeling  in  her  frightened  little  heart  that 
the  world  was  a  great  jungle,  full  of  all  sorts  of 
unknown  terrors.  She  was  coming  back  now,  in  a 
hat  as  stylish  as  Lloyd's  own,  with  a  handsome  little 


BACK  TO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  33 

travelling  satchel  in  her  hands,  and  a  heartful  ©f 
beautiful  memories ;  for  she  had  met  nothing  but 
sindness,  so  far  as  she  had  travelled  in  the  world's 
wide  jungle. 

"There's  the  schoolhoiioe,"  she  cried,  presently, 
with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  as  they  passed  the  deserted 
playground,  overgrown  with  weeds.  It  was  still 
vacation  time  in  this  country  district.  "  There's 
our  playhouse  under  the  thorn-tree,"  she  added, 
half  rising  from  the  stool  to  point  it  out  to  Lloyd. 
"And  that  bare  spot  by  the  well-shed  is  where  we 
play  vineyard  and  prisoner's  base.  We  always  have 
so  much  fun  at  recess." 

The  Little  Colonel  looked  where  Betty  pointed, 
but  the  weather-beaten  schoolhouse,  the  weeds,  and 
the  trampled  spot  of  ground  did  not  suggest  any 
good  times  to  her.  It  seemed  the  lonesomest,  dreari- 
est place  she  had  ever  seen,  and  she  turned  away 
with  a  slight  shrug  of  the  shoulders.  Not  so  slight, 
however,  but  Betty  saw  it.  Then,  suddenly  she 
began  to  look  at  everything  through  the  Little 
Colonel's  eyes.  Somehow  everything  began  to 
appear  ragged  and  gone-to-seed  and  little  and  coun- 
trified and  common.  So  she  did  not  exclaim  again 
when  they  passed  any  of  the  other  old  landmarks 
that  had  grown  dear  to  her  from  long  acquaintance. 


J4  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

There  was  the  half-way  tree,  and  the  bridge  where 
they  always  stopped  to  lean  over  the  railing  and 
make  rings  in  the  water  below,  by  dropping  pebbles 
into  the  clear  pools.  And  there  was  the  flat  rock 
where  they  could  nearly  always  find  a  four-leaf 
clover,  and,  farther  along,  the  stile  where  a  pet  toad 
lived.  She  and  Davy  always  pretended  that  the  toad 
was  a  toll-gate  keeper  who  would  not  let  them  climb 
the  stile  unless  they  paid  him  with  flies. 

All  these  places  were  dear  to  Betty,  and  she  had 
intended  to  point  them  out  to  Lloyd  as  they  went 
along ;  but  after  that  shrug,  she  felt  that  they  would 
have  no  interest  for  any  one  but  herself.  So  she  sat 
quietly  on  the  little  stool,  wishing  that  Lloyd  could 
enjoy  the  ride  home  as  much  as  she  was  doing. 

"  Oh,  how  lonesome  looking !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd, 
as  they  turned  the  last  corner  and  came  to  the 
graveyard,  with  its  gleaming  tombstones.  Betty 
only  smiled  in  reply.  They  were  like  old  friends  to 
her,  but  of  course  Lloyd  could  not  understand  that. 
She  had  never  strolled  among  them  with  Davy  on 
summer  afternoons,  or  parted  the  tangled  grass  and 
myrtle  vines  to  read  the  names  and  verses  on  the 
mossy  marbles,  or  smelled  the  pinks  and  lilies  grow- 
ing over  the  neglected  mounds. 

The  wild  rose  was  gone,  that  had  hung  over  the 


BACK  TO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  35 

old  gray  picket-fence  to  wave  good-bye  to  Betty 
the  morning  she  went  away,  but  the  same  bush  held 
out  a  long  straggling  branch  that  almost  touched  her 
face  as  they  drove  past,  and  the  sunset  glow  shone 
pink  across  it.  Beside  it  was  the  headstone  with 
the  marble  hand  for  ever  pointing  to  the  place  in  the 
marble  book  where  were  deeply  carven  the  letters 
of  the  text,  "  Be  ye  also  ready']  With  that  familiar 
greeting  Betty  felt  that  at  last  she  had  really  reached 
home,  and  indeed  that  she  had  scarcely  been  away. 
For  everything  was  just  as  she  had  left  it,  from  the 
spicy  smell  of  the  cedar  boughs,  to  the  soft  cooing 
of  a  dove  in  a  distant  woodland.  Cow-bells  jingled 
in  the  lane,  and  the  country  quiet  and  contentment 
seemed  to  fill  the  meadows,  as  the  sunset  glow  filled 
all  the  evening  sky. 

"There's  Davy,"  said  Mr.  Appleton,  as  a  chubby, 
barefoot  boy  came  racing  down  the  lane  to  open  the 
gate  for  them,,  and  then  hang  on  the  back  of  the 
wagon  as  it  rattled  along  to  the  house. 

"He  has  been  talking  about  you  all  week,  Betty. 
He  couldn't  eat  any  dinner  to-day,  he  was  so  excited 
about  your  coming." 

Betty  smiled  back  at  the  beaming  little  face,  as 
shining  as  yellow  soap  and  perfect  happiness  could 
ittake  it,  and  her  conscience  smote  her  that  she  h^d 


36  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

not  missed  him  more,  and  written  to  him  oftener 
while  she  was  away  from  him.  But  however  great 
his  loneliness  might  have  been,  it  was  all  forgotten  at 
the  sight  of  her,  and  his  delight  was  unbounded 
when  the  hamper  was  unstrapped  and  Bob  came 
tumbling  out  to  frisk  over  his  bare  toes. 

"  Now  Betty  will  have  two  shadows,"  laughed  Mr. 
Appleton.     "  That  boy  follows  her  everywhere." 

Betty  led  the  way  into  the  house.  On  the  porch 
steps  Lloyd  stopped  her  to  whisper :  "  Mercy,  Betty  ! 
How  many  children  are  there  ?  "  Several  tow  heads 
like  Davy's  were  peering  around  the  corner  of  the 
house,  and  a  two-year-old  baby  toddled  across  the 
porch,  squeezing  a  kitten  in  his  arms. 

"  There  are  six,  altogether,"  answered  Betty. 
"Scott  is  just  Rob  Moore's  age,  but  he  is  so  bashful 
that  you'll  not  see  much  of  him.  Then  there's 
Bradley.  He  is  such  a  tease  that  we  keep  out  of  his 
way  as  much  as  possible.  Davy  comes  next.  He's 
the  nicest  in  the  bunch.  Then  Morgan  is  six,  and 
Lee  is  four,  and  that's  the  baby  over  there.  They 
haven't  named  him  yet,  so  the  boys  just  call  him 
Pudding." 

"  And  is  that  your  cousin  Hetty  ? "  whispered 
Lloyd,  as  a  tall,  thin  woman  came  out  on  the  porch 
t©  greet  her  guests.     In  that  greeting  Betty  forgot 


BACK    TO   THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  $? 

that  Mrs.  Appleton  was  only  a  fourth  cousin,  her 
welcome  was  so  warm  ;  she  thought  only  how  nice 
it  was  to  have  a  family  to  come  back  to.  Looking 
into  the  woman's  tired  face  with  eyes  that  had  grown 
wiser  in  the  summer's  absence,  the  child  saw  that  it 
was  hard  work  and  care  that  had  made  it  grow  old 
before  its  time,  and  realised  that  the  tenderness  she 
had  longed  for  had  been  withheld  only  because  her 
cousin  Hetty  had  been  too  overworked  to  take  time 
to  show  it. 

"  Maybe  she  might  have  been  as  bright  and  sweet 
as  godmother,  if  she  hadn't  had  to  work  so  hard," 
thought  Betty.  "  Still  I  can't  imagine  godmother 
saying  snappy  cross  things,  no  matter  how  tired  she 
might  get." 

"  Supper's  most  ready,"  said  Mrs.  Appleton,  usher- 
ing them  into  the  house.  "  I  reckon  you'll  want  to 
tidy  up  a  bit  after  that  long  ride  on  the  dusty  cars. 
Well,  Molly  didn't  forget  to  fill  the  water-pitcher, 
after  all,  though  she  usually  forgets  everything,  un- 
less I'm  at  her  heels  every  blessed  minute  to  remind 
her." 

"  Molly !  "  repeated  Betty,  in  surprise.  "  Who  is 
she  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  you  didn't  know.  She  is  an  orphan 
I  took  from  the  asylum  soon  after  you  left.     It's 


38  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

been  such  a  hard  summer  that  I  had  to  have  some- 
body  to  help,  so  Mr.  Appleton  went  to  St.  Joseph's 
orphan  asylum  and  picked  me  out  this  girl.  She's 
fourteen,  and  big  for  her  age,  but  as  wild  as  a  Co- 
manche Indian.  So  I  can't  say  she's  been  as  much 
help  as  I'd  hoped  for.  But  she's  good  to  the  baby, 
and  she  can  wash  dishes.  They  taught  her  that  at 
the  asylum.  I  tell  you  I've  missed  you,  Betty.  I 
didn't  realise  how  many  steps  you  saved  me  until  you 
were  gone.  Now,  if  you'll  excuse  me,  Mrs.  Sher- 
man, I'll  go  and  see  about  supper.  You'll  find  your 
room  just  as  you  left  it,  Betty." 

As  the  door  closed  behind  her  and  Betty,  the  Little 
Colonel  turned  to  her  mother  with  a  puzzled  face. 
"  Did  you  evah  see  anything  so  queah  in  all  yo'  life  ? " 
she  asked.  "  A  bed  in  the  pahlah  !  What  if  some- 
body should  come  to  call  aftah  I've  gone  to  sleep. 
Oh,  I  think  this  place  is  awful !  I  don't  see  how 
people  can  be  happy,  living  in  such  an  odd  way." 

"  That  is  your  first  holiday  lesson,"  said  Mrs. 
Sherman,  beginning  to  unpack  her  travelling  bag. 
"  You'll  have  to  learn  that  our  way  of  living  is  not 
the  only  way,  and  that  people  can  be  just  as  good 
and  useful  and  happy  in  one  place  as  another.  Some 
people  are  so  narrow-minded  that  they  never  learn 
that.     They  are  like  car-wheels  that  can  move  only 


BACK  TO    THE    CUCKOO'S  NEST.  39 

when  they  have  a  certain  kind  of  track  to  run  on. 
You  can  be  that  kind  of  a  person,  or  you  can  be  like 
a  bicycle,  able  to  run  on  any  road,  from  the  narrowest 
path  to  the  broadest  avenue.  I've  found  that  people 
who  can  fit  themselves  to  any  road  they  may  happen 
to  be  on  are  the  happiest,  and  they  are  the  easiest  to 
live  with.  That  is  one  of  the  greatest  accomplish- 
ments any  one  can  have,  Lloyd.  I'd  rather  have 
my  little  daughter  able  to  adapt  herself  gracefully 
to  all  circumstances,  than  to  sing  or  paint  or  model 
or  embroider. 

"  You  are  going  to  find  things  very  different  here 
from  what  you  have  been  accustomed  to  at  home 
but  it  wouldn't  be  polite  or  kind  to  appear  to  notict 
any  difference.  For  instance,  some  of  the  best  peo- 
ple I  ever  knew  think  it  is  silly  to  serve  dinner  in 
courses,  as  we  do.  They  like  to  see  everything  on 
the  table  at  once,  —  soup,  salad,  meats,  and  desserts." 

"  I  hate  everything  all  higgledy-piggledy ! "  mut- 
tered the  Little  Colonel,  with  her  face  in  a  towel. 
"I'll  try  not  to  show  it,  mothah,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
can't  help  it  sometimes." 

Meanwhile,  Betty,  with  Davy  tagging  after  her, 
and  Bob  frisking  on  ahead,  had  started  up  the  steps 
to  her  own  little  room  in  the  west  gable.  As  she 
turned  on  the  landing,  the  door  at  the  foot  of  the 


40  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

stairs  moved  slightly,  and  she  caught  the  gleam  of  a 
pair  of  sharp  gray  eyes  peering  at  her  through  the 
crack. 

"  It's  Molly !  "  whispered  Davy,  catching  Betty's 
skirts,  and  scrambling  after  her  as  fast  as  his  short 
fat  legs  would  allow. 

"  Say,  Betty,  did  you  know  that  she's  a  witch  ? 
She  says  that  she  can  go  through  keyholes,  and  that 
on  dark  nights  she  sails  away  over  the  chimney  on  a 
broomstick  with  a  black  cat  on  her  shoulder.  Even 
Scott  and  Bradley  are  afraid  of  her.  They  dasn't  do 
anything  she  tells  them  not  to." 

"  Sh  1'  "  whispered  Betty,  warningly,  with  a  back- 
ward glance  over  her  shoulder.  The  girl  behind  the 
door  had  stepped  out  on  the  landing  for  a  better 
view,  but  she  darted  back  to  her  hiding-place  as  Betty 
turned,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  She  looks  like  a  gypsy,"  thought  Betty,  noticing 
her  straight  black  hair  hanging  around  her  eyes. 
"And  she  seems  ready  to   dodge  at   a  word." 

"  She  tells  us  ghost  stories  every  night  after  sup- 
per," exclaimed  Davy.  They  had  reached  the  gable 
room,  and,  while  Betty  hung  up  her  hat  and  unlocked 
her  trunk,  he  curled  himself  up  comfortably  on  the 
foot  of  her  bed.  "  She  can  make  you  shiver  no 
matter  how  hot  a  night  it  is." 


BACK  TO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  4 1 

Betty  scarcely  noticed  what  the  boy  was  saying. 
At  any  other  time  she  would  have  been  surprised  at 
his  talking  so  much.  Just  now  she  was  looking 
around  her  with  a  feeling  of  strangeness.  Every- 
thing seemed  so  much  smaller  than  when  she  had 
left  the  place.  Her  room  had  not  seemed  bare  and 
cheerless  before  she  went  away,  because  she  had  seen 
no  better.  But  now,  remembering  the  pretty  room 
that  had  been  hers  in  the  House  Beautiful,  the  tears 
came  into  her  eyes.  For  a  moment  the  contrast 
made  her  homesick.  Instead  of  the  crystal  candle- 
sticks, here  was  a  battered  tin  one.  Here  were  no 
filmy  curtains  at  the  windows,  no  white  fur  rugs  on  a 
dark  polished  floor.  Only  a  breadth  of  faded  rag 
carpet,  spread  down  on  bare  unpainted  boards.  Here 
was  no  white  toilet-table  with  furnishings  of  gold  and 
ivory;  no  polished  mirror  in  which  she  could  see 
herself  from  head  to  foot.  She  looked  mournfully 
into  the  tiny  looking-glass  that  was  so  small  that  she 
could  see  only  one-half  of  her  face  at  a  time.  Then 
from  force  of  habit  she  stood  on  tiptoe  to  see  the 
other  half.  The  mouth  was  not  smiling  as  it  used  to 
in  the  old  days. 

She  was  recalled  from  her  homesick  reverie  by 
Davy's  voice  again. 

"Molly  didn't  want  you  and  that  other  girl   to 


42  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

come  here,"  he  confided.  "  She  said  you'd  be  snobs ; 
that  all  rich  people  were.  Bradley  asked  Molly  what 
a  snob  was,  and  said  if  it  was  anything  bad  that  she 
shouldn't  call  you  that,  'cause  you  wasn't  one,  and 
always  tied  his  fingers  up  when  he  cut  hisself,  and 
helped  him  with  his  mul'plication  tables  and  every- 
thing. And  Molly  said  she'd  call  you  what  she 
pleased,  and  treat  you  just  as  mean  as  you  deserved, 
and  if  we  dared  say  a  word  she'd  shut  the  first  one 
that  tried  it  up  in  the  smoke-house  in  the  dark ;  then 
she'd  say  abra-ca-dab-ra  over  us." 

Davy's  voice  sank  to  a  frightened  whisper  as  he 
rolled  the  dread  word  over  his  tongue  in  unconscious 
imitation  of  Molly.  He  was  quivering  with  excite- 
ment, and  his  cheeks  were  unusually  red.  He  had 
talked  more  in  the  few  minutes  than  he  often  did  in 
days. 

"Why,  Davy,  what's  the  matter?"  cried  Betty. 
"What  do  you  mean  by  abracadabra?" 

"  Hush !  Don't  say  it  so  loud,"  he  begged  ear- 
nestly. "  It's  Molly's  hoodoo  word.  Bradley  says 
she  can  conjure  you  with  it,  same  as  coloured  folks 
when  they  put  a  rabbit's  foot  on  you.  I  had  to  tell, 
'cause  I'm  afraid  Molly's  going  to  do  something  mean 
to  you." 

"  Does  your  mother  know  that  she  tells  you  those 


BACK  TO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  43 

silly  things  ? "  demanded  Betty,  turning  on  him 
quickly.  But  Davy  had  lost  his  tongue,  now  that 
his  confession  was  made,  and  only  shook  his  head 
in  reply. 

"Then  don't  listen  to  her  any  more,  Davy  boy," 
she  said,  taking  him  by  the  ears  and  kissing  him 
playfully,  first  on  one  dimpled  cheek  and  then  on  the 
other.  "  Poor  Molly  doesn't  know  any  better,  and 
she  must  have  lived  with  dreadful  people  before 
she  went  to  the  orphan  asylum.  You  stay  with 
Lloyd  and  me,  after  this,  and  don't  have  anything 
more  to  do  with  her  when  she  tells  you  such 
stories." 

"That's  just  what  she  said  you'd  do,"  said  Davy, 
finding  his  voice  again.  "  She  said  that  you  and  that 
other  girl  would  be  stuck  up  and  wouldn't  play  with 
her,  or  let  us  either,  and  that  she'd  always  be  left  out 
of  everything.  But  she'd  get  even  with  you  for  com- 
ing in  with  your  high  and  mighty  airs  and  fine  clothes 
to  turn  us  against  her." 

"  That's  the  silliest  thing  I  ever  heard,"  answered 
Betty,  indignantly.  Then  a  puzzled  look  crept  into 
her  brown  eyes,  as  she  stood  pouring  out  the  water 
to  wash  her  face.  "  I'll  ask  godmother  about  it," 
she  said  to  herself.  "  She'll  tell  us  how  we  ought 
to  treat  her." 


44  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS 

But  there  was  no  opportunity  that  evening.  Molly 
sat  down  to  the  supper-table  with  them,  much  to  the 
surprise  of  the  Little  Colonelt  unused  to  the  primitive 
customs  of  farm  life,  where  no  social  difference  is 
made  between  those  who  are  served  and  those  who 
do  the  serving.  Remembering  her  mother's  little 
sermon,  she  did  not  show  her  surprise  by  the  small- 
est change  of  expression. 

After  supper  Betty  offered  to  help  with  the  dishes 
as  usual,  but  her  cousin  Hetty  sent  her  away,  saying 
it  would  not  do  to  soil  her  pretty  travelling  dress ; 
that  she  was  company  now,  and  to  run  away  and  en- 
tertain Lloyd.  So  Betty,  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  went 
back  to  the  porch,  where  Mr.  Appleton,  with  Pudding 
in  his  lap,  was  talking  with  Mrs.  Sherman. 

Betty  hated  dish-washing,  and  after  her  long  holi- 
day at  the  house  party  it  seemed  doubly  hard  to  go 
back  to  such  unpleasant  duties.  She  did  not  see  the 
swift  jealous  look  that  followed  her  from  Molly's 
keen  eyes,  or  the  sullen  pout  that  settled  on  the  older 
girl's  lips,  as,  left  to  herself,  she  rattled  the  cups  and 
plates  recklessly,  in  her  envious  mood. 

Out  on  the  porch  Betty  sank  into  a  comfortable 
rocking-chair,  and  sat  looking  up  at  the  stars.  "  Isn't 
it  sweet  and  still  out  here,  godmother  ? "  she  asked, 
after  awhile.     "  I  love  to  hear  that  owl  hooting  away 


BACK  TO    THE   CUCKOO'S  NEST.  45 

off  in  the  woods,  and  listen  to  the  pine-trees  whisper- 
ing that  way,  and  the  frogs  croaking  down  in  the 
meadow  pond." 

"  Oh,  I  don't,"  cried  the  Little  Colonel,  with  some- 
thing like  a  sob  in  her  voice,  as  she  nestled  her  head 
closer  against  her  mother's  shoulder.  "  It  makes  me 
feel  as  lonesome  as  when  Mom  Beck  sings  '  Fa' well, 
my  dyin'  friends.'  I  think  they're  the  most  doleful 
sounds  I  evah  heard." 

Presently,  when  Mr.  Appleton  went  in  to  carry  the 
sleepy  baby  to  bed,  the  Little  Colonel  put  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck,  whispering,  "  Oh,  mothah, 
I  wish  we  were  back  at  Locust.  I'm  so  homesick 
and  disappointed  in  the  place.  Can't  we  go  home  in 
the  mawnin'  ? " 

"  I  think  my  little  girl  is  so  tired  and  sleepy  that 
she  doesn't  know  what  she  wants,"  whispered  Mrs. 
Sherman,  in  reply.  "  Come,  let  me  take  you  to  bed. 
You'll  think  differently  in  the  morning.  Do  you 
remember  the  old  song  ? 

" «  Colours  seen  by  candle-light 
Never  look  the  same  by  day.' n 


CHAPTER  IV. 

"TO   BARLEY  -  BRIGHT." 

The  next  few  days  went  by  happily  for  the  Little 
Colonel,  for  Betty  took  her  to  all  her  favourite  haunts, 
and  kept  her  entertained  from  morning  till  night. 
Once  they  stayed  all  day  in  the  woods  below  the 
barn,  building  a  playhouse  at  the  base  of  a  great  oak- 
tree,  with  carpets  of  moss,  and  cups  and  saucers 
made  of  acorns. 

Scott  and  Bradley  joined  them,  and  for  once 
played  peaceably,  building  a  furnace  in  the  ravine 
with  some  flat  stones  and  an  old  piece  of  stove  pipe. 
There  they  cooked  their  dinner.  Davy  was  sent 
to  raid  the  garden  and  spring-house,  and  even  Lee 
and  Morgan  were  allowed  a  place  at  the  feast,  when 
one  came  in  with  a  hatful  of  guinea  eggs  that  he 
had  found  in  the  orchard,  and  the  other  loaned  his 
new  red  wheelbarrow,  to  add  to  the  housekeeping 
outfit. 

"  Isn't  this  fun  !  "  exclaimed  the  Little  Colonel, 
as  she  watched  Betty,  who  stood  over  the  furnace 

46 


«'7Y>  BARLEY -BRIGHT."  47 

with  a  very  red  face,  scrambling  the  eggs  in  an  old 
pie-pan.  "I  bid  to  be  the  cook  next  time  we  play 
out  here,  and  I'm  going  to  make  a  furnace  like  this 
when  I  go  back  to  Locust." 

High  above  them,  up  the  hill,  on  the  back  porch 
of  the  farmhouse,  Molly  stood  ironing  sheets  and 
towels.  Whenever  she  glanced  down  into  the  shady 
hollow,  she  could  see  Lloyd's  pink  dress  fluttering 
along  the  ravine,  or  Betty's  white  sunbonnet  bobbing 
up  from  behind  the  rocks.  The  laughing  voices  and 
the  shouts  of  the  boys  came  tantalisingly  to  her  ears, 
and  the  old  sullen  pout  settled  on  her  face  as  she 
listened. 

"  It  isn't  fair  that  I  should  have  to  work  all  day 
long  while  they  are  off  having  a  good  time,"  she 
muttered,  slapping  an  iron  angrily  down  on  the 
stove.  "I  s'pose  they  think  that  because  I'm  so 
big  I  oughtn't  to  care  about  playing ;  but  I  couldn't 
help  growing  so  fast.  If  I  am  nearly  as  big  as  Mrs. 
Appleton,  that  doesn't  keep  me  from  feeling  like  a 
little  girl  inside.  I'm  only  a  year  older  than  Scott. 
I  hate  them  !  I  wish  that  little  Sherman  girl  would 
fall  into  a  brier  patch  and  scratch  her  face,  and  that 
a  hornet  would  sting  Betty  Lewis  smack  in  the 
mouth  ! " 

By  and  by  a  tear  sizzled  down  on  the  hot  iron  in  her 


48  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

hand.  "  It  isn't  fair !  "  she  sobbed  again,  "  for  them 
to  have  everything  and  me  nothing,  not  even  to  know 
where  my  poor  little  sister  is.  Maybe  somebody's 
beating  her  this  very  minute,  or  she  is  shut  up  in  a 
dark  closet  crying  for  me."  With  that  thought,  all 
the  distressing  scenes  that  had  made  her  past  life 
miserable  began  to  crowd  into  her  mind,  and  the 
tears  sizzled  faster  and  faster  on  the  hot  iron,  as 
she  jerked  it  back  and  forth  over  a  long  towel. 

There  had  been  beatings  and  dark  closets  for 
Molly  many  a  time  before  she  was  rescued  by  the 
orphan  asylum,  and  the  great  fear  of  her  life  was 
that  there  was  still  the  same  cruel  treatment  for 
the  little  sister  who  had  not  been  rescued,  but  who 
had  been  hidden  away  by  their  drunken  father 
when  the  Humane  Society  made  its  search  for 
her. 

Three  years  had  passed  since  they  were  lost  from 
each  other.  Molly  was  only  eleven  then,  and  Dot, 
■Although  nearly  seven,  was  such  a  tiny,  half-starved 
tittle  thing  that  she  seemed  only  a  baby  in  her 
sister's  eyes.  Many  a  night,  when  the  wind  moaned 
in  the  chimney,  or  the  rats  scampered  in  the  walls, 
Molly  had  started  up  out  of  a  sound  sleep,  staring 
fearfully  into  the  darkness,  thinking  that  she  had 
beard  Dot  calling  to  her.     Then  suddenly  remember- 


«  TO  BARLEY  BRIGHT. "  49 

ing  that  Dot  was  too  far  away  to  make  her  hear,  no 
matter  how  wildly  she  might  call,  she  had  buried  her 
face  in  her  pillow,  and  sobbed  and  sobbed  until  she 
fell  asleep. 

The  matron  of  the  asylum  knew  why  she  often 
came  down  in  the  morning  with  red  eyes  and  swollen 
face,  and  the  knowledge  made  her  more  patient  with 
the  wayward  girl.  Nobody  taxed  her  patience  more 
than  Molly,  with  her  unhappy  moods,  her  outbursts 
of  temper,  and  her  suspicious,  jealous  disposition. 
She  loved  to  play,  and  yelled  and  ran  like  some 
wild  creature,  whenever  she  had  a  chance,  climbing 
the  highest  trees,  making  daring  leaps  from  forbidden 
heights,  and  tearing  her  clothes  into  ribbons.  But 
she  rebelled  at  having  to  work,  and  in  all  the 
time  she  was  at  the  asylum  the  matron  had  found 
only  one  lovable  trait  in  her.  It  was  her  affection 
for  the  little  lost  sister  that  made  her  gentle  to 
the  smaller  children  on  the  place  and  kind  to 
the  animals. 

She  had  been  happier  since  coming  to  the  Apple- 
ton  farm,  where  there  were  no  rules,  and  the  boys 
accepted  her  leadership  admiringly.  She  found 
great  pleasure  in  inventing  wild  tales  for  their 
entertainment,  in  frightening  them  with  stories  of 
ghosts  and  hobgoblins,  and  in  teaching  them  new 


50  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

games  which  she  had  played  in  alleys  with  boot* 
biacks  and  street  gamins. 

All  that  had  stopped  with  the  arrival  of  the 
visitors.  Their  coming  brought  her  more  work, 
and  left  her  less  time  to  play.  The  sight  of  Lloyd 
and  Betty  in  their  dainty  dresses  aroused  her  worst 
jealousy,  and  awoke  the  old  bitterness  that  had 
grown  up  in  her  slum  life,  and  that  always  raged 
within  her  whenever  she  saw  people  with  whom 
fortune  had  dealt  more  kindly  than  with  herself. 
All  that  day,  while  the  seven  happy  children  played 
and  sang  in  the  shady  woodland,  she  went  around 
at  her  work  with  a  rebellious  feeling  against  her 
lot.  Everything  she  did  was  to  the  tune  of  a  bitter 
refrain  that  kept  echoing  through  her  sore  heart : 
"It  isn't  fair!     It  isn't  fair!" 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  boy  came  riding  up  from 
the  railroad  station  with  a  telegram  for  Mrs.  Sher- 
man. It  was  the  first  one  that  had  ever  been  sent 
to  the  farm,  and  Bradley,  who  had  gone  up  to  the 
house  for  a  hatchet,  waited  to  watch  Mrs.  Sherman 
tear  open  the  yellow  envelope. 

"  Take  it  to  Lloyd,  please,"  she  said,  after  a  hur- 
ried reading.  "  Tell  her  to  hurry  up  to  the  house." 
Thrusting  the  message  into  his  hand,  she  hurried 
out  of  the  room,  to  find  Mrs.  Appleton.    Bradley  felt 


-  TO  BARLE  Y-  BRIGHT.  -  5 1 

very  important  at  being  the  bearer  of  a  telegram,  and 
ran  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  his  bare  feet  could  carry 
him  over  the  briers  and  dry  stubble.  He  would 
have  teased  Lloyd  awhile  by  making  her  guess  what 
he  had,  before  giving  it  to  her,  if  it  had  not  been  for 
Mrs.  Sherman's  request  to  hurry. 

Lloyd  read  the  message  aloud.  "  Aunt  Jane 
alarmingly  ill ;  wants  to  see  you.  Come  immedi- 
ately** "  Oh,  how  provoking !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  I 
s'pose  we'll  have  to  start  right  off.  We  always  do. 
We  nevah  plan  to  go  anywhere  or  do  anything  with- 
out Aunt  Jane  gets  sick  and  thinks  she's  goin'  to 
die.  She's  an  old,  old  lady,"  she  hastened  to  ex- 
plain, seeing  Betty's  shocked  face.  "  She's  my 
great-aunt,  you  know,  'cause  she's  my  grand- 
mothah's  sistah.  I  wouldn't  have  minded  it  so  much 
when  we  first  came,"  she  confessed,  "but  I  don't 
want  to  leave  now,  one  bit.  We've  had  a  lovely 
time  to-day,  and  I  hate  to  go  away  befo'  I've  seen 
the  cave  you  promised  to  take  me  to  and  the  Glen- 
rock  watahfall,  and  all  those  places." 

It  never  occurred  to  the  Little  Colonel  that  she 
might  be  left  behind,  until  she  reached  the  house 
and  found  her  mother  with  her  hat  on,  packing  her 
satchel. 

"I've  barely  time  to  catch  the  next  train,"  she 


52  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS, 

said,  as  Lloyd  came  running  into  the  room.  "It  is 
a  two-mile  drive  to  the  station,  you  know,  and 
there's  not  time  to  get  you  and  all  your  things 
ready  to  take  with  me.  It  wouldn't  be  wise,  any- 
how, for  everything  is  always  in  confusion  at  Aunt 
Jane's  when  she  is  ill.  Mrs.  Appleton  will  take 
good  care  of  you,  and  you  can  follow  me  next  week 
if  Aunt  Jane  is  better.  Betty  will  come  with  you, 
and  we'll  have  a  nice  little  visit  in  the  city  while  she 
does  her  shopping  and  gets  ready  for  her  journey. 
I'll  write  to  you  as  soon  as  I  can  decide  when  it  will 
be  best  for  you  to  come.  Aunt  Jane's  illness  is 
probably  half  scare,  like  all  her  others,  but  still  I 
feel  that  I  must  never  lose  a  moment  when  she 
sends  for  me,  as  she  might  be  worse  than  we  think.'' 
Mrs.  Sherman  packed  rapidly  while  she  talked,, 
and  almost  before  Lloyd  realised  that  she  was 
really  to  be  left  behind,  a  light  buckboard  was  at 
the  door,  and  Mr.  Appleton  was  standing  beside  the 
horse's  head  waiting.  There  was  not  even  time  for 
Lloyd  to  cling  around  her  mother's  neck  and  be 
petted  and  comforted  for  the  sudden  separation. 
There  was  a  hasty  hug,  a  loving  kiss,  and  a  whis- 
pered "Good-bye,  little  daughter.  Mother's  sorry 
to  go  without  her  little  girl,  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
The  time  will  soon  pass  —  only  a  week,  and  remem- 


"TO  BARLEY -BRIGHT."  53 

ber  this  is  one  of  your  school  days,  and  the  lesson 
set  for  you  to  learn  is  Patience." 

Lloyd  smiled  bravely  while  she  promised  to  be 
good  and  not  give  Mrs.  Appleton  any  trouble.  Her 
mother,  looking  back  as  they  drove  away,  saw  the 
two  little  girls  standing  with  their  arms  around  each 
other,  waving  their  handkerchiefs,  and  thought  thank- 
fully, "I  am  glad  that  Lloyd  is  here  with  Betty  in- 
stead of  at  Locust.  She'll  not  have  time  to  be 
lonesome  with  so  many  playmates." 

It  was  hard  for  Lloyd  to  keep  back  the  tears  as 
the  carriage  passed  out  of  sight  around  the  corner 
of  the  graveyard,  But  Bradley  challenged  her  to  a 
race  down-hill,  and  with  a  loud  whoop  they  all  started 
helter-skelter  back  to  the  ravine  to  play.  She  had 
been  busy  making  some  pine-cone  chairs  for  the  little 
parlour  at  the  roots  of  the  oak-tree,  when  the  tele- 
gram called  her  away,  and  now  she  went  back  to  that 
delightful  occupation,  working  busily  until  the  supper- 
horn  blew  to  call  the  men  from  the  field.  It  was 
always  a  pleasure  to  Lloyd  to  hear  that  horn,  and 
several  timss  she  had  puffed  at  it  until  she  was  red 
in  the  face,  m  her  vain  attempts  to  blow  it  herself. 
All  the  sound  she  could  awaken  was  a  short  dismal 
toot.  It  was  a  cow's  horn,  carved  and  polished,  that 
had  been  used  for  nearly  forty  years  to  call  the  men 


54  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

from  the  field.  When  Mrs.  Appleton  puckered  her 
lips  to  blow  it,  her  thin  cheeks  puffed  out  until  they 
were  as  round  and  pink  as  the  baby's,  and  the  long 
mellow  note  went  floating  across  the  fields,  clear  and 
sweet,  till  the  men  at  work  in  the  farthest  field  heard 
it  and  answered  with  a  far-away  cheer. 

"Let's  get  Molly  to  play  Barley-bright  with  us 
to-night,"  said  Bradley,  as  they  trudged  up  the  hill. 
"  It  is  a  fine  game,  and  if  we  help  her  with  the  dishes, 
she'll  get  done  in  just  a  few  minutes,  and  we'll  have 
nearly  an  hour  to  play  before  it  gets  dark." 

The  same  thought  was  in  Molly's  mind,  for  after 
supper  she  called  the  boys  aside  and  whispered  to 
them.  She  wanted  to  slip  away  from  the  girls  and 
not  allow  them  to  join  in  the  game ;  but  Bradley 
would  not  listen  to  such  an  arrangement.  He  insisted 
that  the  game  would  not  be  any  fun  without  them. 

Then  Molly,  growing  jealous,  turned  away  with  a 
pout,  saying  that  she  might  have  known  it  would  be 
that  way.  They  had  had  plenty  of  fun  before  the 
girls  came,  but  to  go  ahead  and  do  as  they  pleased. 
It  didn't  make  any  difference  to  her.  She  could  get 
on  very  well  by  herself. 

Lloyd  had  gone  down  to  the  spring-house  with 
Mrs.  Appleton,  but  Betty  heard  the  dispute  and  put 
an  end  to  it  at  once.     "  Here ! "  she  cried,  catching 


"  TO  BARLE  Y  BRIGHT."  5  5 

up  a  towel.  "  Everybody  come  and  help,  and  we'll  be 
through  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson.  Pour 
out  the  hot  water,  Molly.  Get  another  towel,  Brad- 
ley. We'll  wipe,  and  Davy  can  carry  the  dishes  to 
the  pantry.  We'll  be  through  before  Scott  has  hali 
filled  the  wood-box." 

Molly  could  not  keep  her  jealous  mood  and  sulky 
frowns  very  long  in  the  midst  of  the  laughing  chatter 
that  followed,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  Betty  had 
talked  her  into  good  humour  with  herself  and  all  the 
world.  Such  light  work  did  the  many  hands  make 
of  the  dish-washing,  that  the  sky  was  still  pink  with 
the  sunset  glow  when  they  were  ready  to  begin  the 
game. 

"We  always  go  down  to  the  hay-barn  to  play 
Barley-bright,"  said  Bradley.  "  I  never  cared  for  it 
when  we  played  it  at  school  in  the  day-time,  but 
when  we  play  it  Molly's  way  it  is  the  most  exciting 
game  I  know.  We  usually  wait  till  it  begins  to  get 
dark  and  the  lightning-bugs  are  flying  about. 

"Molly and  I  will  stand  the  crowd,  this  time.  Our 
base  will  be  here  at  the  persimmon-tree  in  front  of 
the  barn,  and  yours  will  be  the  pasture  bars  down 
yonder.  The  barn  will  be  Barley-bright,  and  after 
we  call  out  the  questions  and  answers,  you're  to  try 
to  run  around  our  base  to  the  barn,  and  back  again  to 


56  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

yours,  without  being  caught  by  a  witch.  There  are 
six  of  you,  so  you  can  have  six  runs  to  Barley-bright 
and  back,  and  if  by  that  time  we  have  caught  half  of 
you  the  game  is  ours.  The  witch  has  the  right  to 
hide  and  jump  out  at  you  from  any  place  she  chooses, 
but  I  can't  touch  you  except  when  you  pass  my  base. 
Now  shut  your  eyes  till  I  count  one  hundred,  while 
the  witch  hides." 

Six  pairs  of  hands  were  clasped  over  six  pairs  of 
eyes,  while  Bradley  slowly  counted,  and  Molly,  dart- 
ing away  from  his  side,  hid  behind  the  straw-stack. 

"  One  —  hun-dred  —  all  eyes  open  !  "  he  shouted. 
They  looked  around.  The  fireflies  were  flashing 
across  the  pasture  and  the  dusk  was  beginning  to 
deepen.  Then  six  voices  rang  out  in  chorus,  Brad- 
ley's shrill  pipe  answering  them. 

"  How  many  miles  to  Barley-bright  ?  " 

"  Three  score  and  ten  !  " 
"  Can  I  get  there  by  candle-light  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  your  legs  are  long  and  light  — 
There  and  back  again  / 
Look  out  I     The  witches  will  catch  you  t " 

Molly  was  nowhere  in  sight,  so  with  a  delicious 
thrill  of  excitement,  not  knowing  from  what  ambush 
they  would  be  pounced  upon,  the  six  pilgrims  to 
Barley-bright  started  off  at  the  top  of  their  speed 


"TO   THEIR    EXCITED    FANCY    SHE    SEEMED    A    REAL    WITCH." 


«  TO  BARLEY- BRIGHT. •»  $? 

Across  the  pasture  they  rushed,  around  Bradley's 
base  at  the  persimmon-tree,  and  up  to  the  big  barn 
door,  which  the)'"  were  obliged  to-  touch  before  they 
could  turn  and  make  a  wild  dash  back  to  the  pasture 
bars. 

Just  as  they  reached  the  barn  door,  Molly  sprang 
out  from  behind  the  straw-stack ;  but  they  could  not 
believe  it  was  Molly,  she  was  so  changed.  To  their 
excited  fancy  she  seemed  a  real  witch.  Her  black 
hair  was  unbraided,  and  streamed  out  in  elfish  wisps 
from  under  a  tall  pointed  black  hat.  A  hideous 
mask  covered  her  face,  and  she  brandished  the 
stump  of  an  old  broom  with  such  effect  that  they 
ran  from  her,  shrieking  wildly. 

Some  heavy  wrapping  paper,  a  strip  of  white 
cotton  cloth,  and  coal-soot  from  the  bottom  of  a 
stove  lid  had  changed  an  ordinary  girl  of  fourteen 
into  a  nameless  terror,  from  which  they  fled,  shriek- 
ing at  the  top  of  their  voices.  The  boys  had  been 
through  the  performance  many  times,  but  they  en- 
joyed the  cold  thrill  it  gave  them  as  much  as  Betty 
and  Lloyd,  who  were  feeling  it  for  the  first  time. 

Lee  was  caught  in  that  first  mad  race,  and  Mor- 
gan in  the  second,  and  they  had  to  go  over  to  the 
enemy's  base,  where  Bradley  stood  guard  under  the 
persimmon-tree.      As  they  came  in  from  the  third 


58  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

run,  Lloyd  leaned  against  the  pasture  bars,  out  of 
breath. 

"  Oh,  I  believe  I  should  drop  dead,"  she  panted, 
"  if  that  awful  thing  should  get  me.  I  can't  believe 
that  it  is  only  Molly.  She  seems  like  a  real  suah 
'nuff  witch."  She  glanced  over  her  shoulder  again 
with  a  little  nervous  shudder  as  the  others  began 
calling  again  : 

"How  many  miles  to  Barley-bright  ?  " 

Betty  was  caught  this  time,  and  Lloyd,  to  whom 
the  game  was  becoming  a  terrible  reality,  stood  with 
her  heart  beating  like  a  trip-hammer  and  her  eyes 
peering  in  a  startled  way  through  the  dusk.  This 
time  the  witch  popped  up  from  behind  the  pasture 
bars,  and  Lloyd,  giving  a  startled  look  over  her 
shoulder  as  she  flew,  saw  that  the  broomstick  was 
flourished  in  her  direction,  and  the  hideous  black  and 
white  mask  was  almost  upon  her.  With  an  ear-split- 
ting scream  she  redoubled  her  speed,  racing  around 
and  around  the  barn,  instead  of  touching  the  door 
and  turning  back,  when  she  saw  that  she  was 
followed. 

Finally,  with  one  sharp  scream  of  terror  after 
another,  she  darted  into  the  great  dark  barn,  in  a 
blind  frenzy  to  escape.     She  heard  the  voices  of  the 


"TO  BARLEY  BRIGHT."  59 

children  outside,  the  bang  of  the  broomstick  against 
the  door,  and  then  plunging  forward,  felt  herself 
falling  —  falling ! 

There  was  just  an  instant  in  which  she  seemed  to 
see  the  faces  of  her  mother  and  Papa  Jack.  Then 
she  remembered  nothing  more,  for  her  head  struck 
something  hard,  and  she  lay  in  a  little  heap  on  the 
floor  below.  She  had  fallen  through  a  trap-door  into 
an  empty  manger. 


CHAPTER  V. 

A   TIME    FOR    PATIENCE. 

They  thought  at  first  that  she  was  hiding  in  the 
barn,  afraid  to  come  out,  lest  Molly  might  be  lying 
in  wait  to  grab  her.  So  they  began  calling  :  "  Come 
on,  Lloyd !  King's  X !  King's  excuse !  Home 
free !  You  may  come  home  free !  "  But  there  was 
no  answer,  and  Betty,  suddenly  remembering  the 
trap-door,  grew  white  with  fear. 

The  children  played  in  the  barn  so  much  that 
Mr.  Appleton's  first  order,  when  he  hired  a  new 
man,  was  that  the  trap-door  must  always  be  closed 
and  fastened  the  moment  he  finished  pitching  the 
hay  down  to  the  manger  below.  The  children  them- 
selves had  been  cautioned  time  and  again  to  keep 
*way  from  it,  but  Lloyd,  never  having  played  in  the 
barn  before,  was  not  aware  of  its  existence. 

"  Lloyd,  Lloyd  !  "  called  Betty,  hurrying  into  the 
twilight  of  the  big  barn.  There  was  no  answer, 
and  peering  anxiously  ahead,  Betty  saw  that  the 
trap-door  was    open,   and    on    the   floor  below    was 

60 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  6 1 

the  gleam  of  the  Little  Colonel's  light  pink  dress, 
shining  white  through  the  dusk. 

Betty's  startled  cry  brought  the  other  children, 
who  clattered  down  the  barn  stairs  after  her,  into 
the  straw-covered  circle  where  the  young  calves  were 
kept.  They  met  Mr.  Appleton,  coming  in  from 
the  corn-crib  with  a  basket  on  his  shoulder,  and  all 
began  to  talk  at'  once.  The  words  "  Lloyd  "  and 
"trap-door"  were  all  he  could  distinguish  in  the  jum- 
ble of  excited  exclamations,  but  they  told  the  whole 
story. 

Hastily  dropping  his  basket,  he  strode  across  to 
the  manger  that  Betty  pointed  out,  with  a  look  of 
grave  concern  on  his  face.  They  all  crowded  breath- 
lessly around  him  as  he  bent  over  the  quiet  little 
figure,  lifting  it  gently  in  his  arms.  It  was  a  solemn- 
faced  little  company  that  followed  him  up  the  hill 
with  his  unconscious  burden.  A  cold  fear  seized 
Betty  as  she  walked  along,  glancing  at  the  Little 
Colonel's  closed  eyes,  and  the  tiny  stream  of  blood 
trickling  across  the  still  white  face. 

"Oh,  if  godmother  were  only  here !  "  she  groaned. 

"There's  no  telling  how  badly  Lloyd  is  hurt. 
Mkybe  she'll  be  a  cripple  for  life.  Oh,  I  wish  I'd 
never  heard  of  such  a  game  as  Barley-bright." 

If  the  accident  had  happened  at  Locust,  a  doctor 


62  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

would  have  been  summoned  to  the  spot,  as  fast  as 
telephones  and  swift  horses  could  bring  him,  and 
the  whole  household  would  have  held  its  breath  in 
anxiety.  But  very  little  fuss  was  made  over 
accidents  at  the  Cuckoo's  Nest.  It  was  a  weekly 
occurrence  for  some  of  the  children  to  be  brought 
in  limp  and  bleeding  from  various  falls.  Bradley 
had  cnce  sprained  his  neck  turning  somersaults 
down  the  hay-mow,  so  that  he  had  not  been  able 
to  look  over  his  shoulder  for  two  weeks.  Scott 
had  been  picked  up  senseless  twice,  once  from  fall- 
ing out  of  the  top  of  a  walnut-tree,  and  the  other 
time  because  a  high  ladder  broke  under  him.  Every 
one  of  the  boys  but  Pudding  had  at  some  time  or 
another  left  a  trail  of  blood  behind  him  from  barn 
to  house  as  he  went  weeping  homeward  with  some 
part  of  his  body  to  be  bandaged.  So  Lloyd's  fall 
did  not  cause  the  commotion  it  might  have  done 
in  a  less  adventurous  family. 

"Oh,  she's  coming  around  all  right,"  said  Mr. 
Appleton,  cheerfully,  as  her  head  stirred  a  little 
on  his  shoulder,  and  she  half  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Here  you  are,"  he  added  a  moment  later,  laying 
her  on  the  bed  in  the  parlour.  "  Scott,  run  call  your 
mother.  Bring  a  light,  Molly.  We'll  soon  see  what 
is  the  matter." 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  63 

There  were  no  bones  broken,  and  in  a  little  while 
Lloyd  sat  up,  white  and  dizzy. .  Then  she  walked 
across  the  room,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  little 
mirror  hanging  over  a  shelf,  on  which  stood  a  bou- 
quet of  stiff  wax  flowers.  It  was  hung  so  high  and 
tilted  forward  so  much,  and  the  wax  flowers  were  in 
the  way,  so  that  she  could  not  get  a  very  satisfactory 
view  of  her  wounds,  but  she  saw  enough  to  make  her 
feel  like  an  old  soldier  home  from  the  wars,  with  the 
marks  of  many  battles  upon  her. 

A  bandage  wet  with  arnica  was  tied  around  her 
head,  over  a  large  knot  that  was  rapidly  swelling 
larger.  Several  strips  of  court -plaster  covered  the 
cut  on  her  temple.  One  cheek  was  scratched,  and 
she  was  stiff  and  sore  from  many  bruises. 

"  But  not  half  so  stiff  as  you'll  be  in  the  morning," 
Mrs.  Appleton  assured  her,  cheerfully.  "  All  that 
side  of  your  body  that  struck  against  the  manger 
is  black  and  blue." 

"I  think  I'll  go  to  bed,"  said  the  Little  Colonel, 
faintly.  "  This  day  has  been  long  enough,  and  I  don't 
want  anything  else  to  happen  to  me.  Fallin'  through 
a  trap-doah  and  havin'  my  mothah  leave  me  is  enougn 
fo'  one  while.  I  think  I  need  her  moah  than  Aunt 
Jane  does.  You'll  have  to  sleep  with  me  to-night, 
Betty.    I  wouldn't  stay  down  heah  alone  fo'  anything." 


64  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

It  was  very  early  to  go  to  bed,  scarcely  more  than 
half-past  seven,  when  Betty  blew  out  the  candle  and 
climbed  in  beside  the  Little  Colonel.  She  lay  for 
a  long  time,  listening  to  the  croaking  of  the  frogs, 
thinking  that  Lloyd  had  forgotten  her  troubles  in 
,  dreamland,  until  a  mournful  little  voice  whispered, 
"  Say,   Betty,  are  you  asleep  ?  " 

"No;  but  I  thought  you  were." 

"  I  was,  for  a  few  minutes,  but  that  dreadful  false 
face  of  Molly's  woke  me  up.  I  dreamed  it  was  chas- 
ing me,  and  I  seemed  to  be  falling  and  falling,  and 
somebody  screamed  at  me  '  Look  out !  The  witches 
will  catch  you  ! '  It  frightened  me  so  that  I  woke 
up  all  a  tremble.  I  know  I  am  safe,  here  in  bed 
with  you,  but  I'm  shaking  so  hard  that  I  can't  go  to 
sleep  again.  Oh,  Betty,  you  don't  know  how  much 
I  want  my  mothah  !  I'll  nevah  leave  her  again  as 
long  as  I  live.  My  head  aches,  and  I'm  so  stiff 
and  soah   I  can't  tu'n  ovah ! " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  a  story  ? "  asked 
Betty,  hearing  the  sob  in  Lloyd's  voice,  and  divining 
that  her  pillow  had  caught  more  than  one  tear  under 
cover  of  the  darkness. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  begged  the  Little  Colonel.  "Talk  to 
me,  even  if  you  don't  say  anything  but  the  multipli- 
cation  table.     It   will  keep  me    from  hearin'  those 


A    TIME    FOR  PATIENCE.  65 

dreadful  frogs,  and  seem"  that  face  in  the  dark.  I'm 
ashamed  to  be  frightened  at  nothing.  I  don't  know 
what  makes  me  such  a  coward." 

"  Maybe  the  fall  was  a  sort  of  shock  to  your 
nerves,"  said  Betty,  comfortingly,  reaching  out  to 
pat  the  trembling  shoulders  with  a  motherly  air. 
"There,  go  to  sleep,  and  I'll  stay  awake  and  keep 
away  the  hobgoblins.  I'll  recite  the  Lady  Jane, 
because  it  jingles  so  beautifully.  It  goes  like  a 
cradle." 

A  little  groping  hand  reached  through  the  dark- 
ness and  touched  Betty's  face,  then  buried  itself  in 
her  soft  curls,  as  if  the  touch  brought  a  soothing 
sense  of  safety.  In  a  slow,  sing-song  tone,  as 
monotonous  as  the  droning  of  a  bee,  Betty  be- 
gan, accenting  every  other  syllable  with  a  sleepy 
drawl. 

"  The  /tf-dy  Jane  was  tall  and  slim, 
The  /tf-dy  Jane  was  fair. 
Sir  Thomas  her  lord  was  stout  of  limb, 
His  cough  was  short  and  his  eyes  were  dim, 
And  he  wore  green  specs  with  a  tortoise  shell  rim, 
And  his  hat  was  rt-mark-2ib\y  broad  in  the  brim, 
And  she  was  \xn-common-\y  fond  of  him, 
And  they  were  a  lov-ing  pair. 

And  the  name  and  the  fame  of  this  knight  and  his  dame 
Were  every-where  hailed  with  the  loud-est  2jc-claim^ 


66  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

But  it  took  more  than  the  Lady  Jane  to  put  the 
restless  little  listener  to  sleep  that  night.  Maud 
Muller  was  recited  in  the  same  sing-song  measure, 
and  Lord  Ullin's  daughter  followed  without  a  pause, 
till  Betty  herself  grew  sleepy,  and,  like  a  tired  little 
mosquito,  droned  lower  and  lower,  finally  stopping  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence. 

They  woke  in  the  morning,  to  hear  thunder  rum- 
bling in  the  distance.  Betty,  peeping  through  the 
curtains,  announced  that  the  sky  was  gray  with 
clouds,  and  she  thought  that  it  must  surely  begin  to 
rain  soon.  Lloyd,  so  stiff  and  sore  from  the  effects 
of  her  fall  that  she  could  scarcely  move,  sat  up  with 
a  groan. 

"  Oh,  deah  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  is  there  to 
do  heah  on  rainy  days  ?  No  books,  no  games,  no 
piano !  Mothah  said  that  the  lesson  set  fo'  me 
to  learn  was  patience,  but  I'd  lose  my  mind,  just 
sitting  still  in  front  of  a  clock  and  watching  the 
minutes  go  by.     I  don't  see  how  Job  stood  it." 

"Job  didn't  do  that  way,"  said  Betty,  soberly,  as 
she  looked  up  from  lacing  her  shoes.  "  They  didn't 
have  any  clocks  in  those  days,  and  besides,  patience 
isn't  just  sitting  still  all  day  without  fidgeting.  It's 
putting  up  with  whatever  happens  to  you,  without 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  t>7 

making  a  fuss  about  it.  The  best  .way  to  do  it  is  not 
to  think  about  it  any  more  than  you  can  help." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  how  I'm  goin'  to  keep  from 
thinkin'  about  my  bruises  and  cuts,"  groaned  the 
Little  Colonel,  limping  stiffly  across  the  room  to 
look  again  in  the  little  mirror,  at  her  bandaged  fore- 
head, her  scratched  cheek,  and  her  temple,  criss- 
crossed with  strips  of  court-plaster.  "  What  would 
Papa  Jack  say  if  he  could  see  me  now  ? " 

She  repeated  Betty's  definition  of  patience  to  her 
reflection  in  the  mirror,  making  a  wry  face  as  she 
did  so.  " '  Puttin'  up  with  whatevah  happens  to  you, 
without  makin'  a  fuss  about  it.'  Well,  I'll  try,  but 
it's  mighty  hard  to  do  when  one  of  the  happenings 
is  fallin'  through  a  trap-doah,  and  gettin'  as  stiff  and 
soah  as  I  am." 

She  thought  about  the  definition  more  than  once 
during  the  long  morning  that  followed;  when  the 
hash  was  too  salty  at  breakfast,  and  the  oatmeal 
was  scorched ;  when  Betty  was  busy  in  the  spring- 
house,  and  she  was  left  all  alone  for  awhile  with 
nothing  to  entertain  herself  with  but  the  almanac 
and  a  week-old  paper.  The  thunder,  that  had  been 
only  a  low  muttering  over  the  distant  hills  when  they 
awoke,  was  coming  nearer,  and  the  damp  air  was 
heavy  with  the  approaching  storm. 


68  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  I'll  have  one  little  run  out-of-doahs  befo'  it  begins 
to  rain,"  thought  Lloyd,  and  started  up  to  skip  across 
the  porch ;  but  her  skipping  changed  to  a  painful 
walk  as  her  aching  muscles  reminded  her  of  her 
fall,  and  she  limped  slowly  down  the  lane  toward  the 
gate. 

A  strong  wind  suddenly  began  lashing  the  cherry- 
trees  that  lined  the  lane,  and  sent  a  gust  of  dust  and 
leaves  into  her  face.  She  stopped  a  moment  to  rub 
her  eyes,  and  as  she  did  so  something  fluttering  on 
the  hedge-row  broke  loose  from  the  thorns  that  held 
it,  and  came  blowing  toward  her.  It  was  something 
soft  and  gray,  and  it  fluttered  along  uncertainly,  like 
a  bit  of  fleecy  thistledown,  as  the  wind  bore  it  to  her 
feet. 

"  Oh,  it's  mothah's  gray  veil !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  It 
was  on  the  back  of  the  seat  when  she  waved  good- 
bye to  me,  and  they  were  drivin'  so  fast  it  must  have 
blown  away." 

She  picked  up  the  dainty  piece  of  silk  tissue,  soft 
and  filmy  as  a  cloud,  and  held  it  against  her  cheek. 
Then  she  hurried  into  the  house  with  it,  lest  some  of 
the  boys  should  see  her  and  notice  the  tears  in  her 
eyes.  But  inside  the  dark  closet,  where  she  climbed 
to  lay  the  veil  on  a  shelf,  the  lonely  feeling  was  too 
Strong  for  her  to  overcome.     Crouching  down  in  a 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  69 

corner,  with  her  face  hidden  in  the  soft  violet-scented 
veil,  she  cried  quietly  for  a  long  time. 

Then  something  came  to  her  mind  that  had  hap« 
pened  when  she  was  only  five  years  old,  before  she 
had  gone  to  Locust  to  live.  It  was  that  first  lone- 
some evening  when  she  had  been  left  to  spend  the 
night  at  her  grandfather's,  and  she  grew  so  homesick 
as  twilight  fell  that  she  decided  to  run  away.  And 
while  she  stood  with  her  hand  on  the  latch  of  the 
great  gate,  peering  through  the  bars  at  the  darkening 
world  outside,  Fritz  (the  wisest  little  terrier  that  ever 
peeped  through  tangled  bangs)  found  something  in 
the  dead  leaves  at  her  feet.  It  was  a  little  gray 
glove  that  her  mother  had  dropped,  when  she  stooped 
to  kiss  her  good-bye.  Lloyd  remembered  how  she 
had  squeezed  it,  and  cried  over  it,  and  fondled  it  as 
if  it  held  the  touch  of  her  mother's  hand,  and  then, 
baby  though  she  was,  she  had  tucked  it  into  her  tiny 
apron  pocket  as  a  talisman  to  help  her  be  brave.  Then 
she  walked  back  to  the  house  without  another  tear. 

"That  visit  had  a  beautiful  ending,"  thought 
Lloyd,  tenderly  folding  the  veil.  "  Then  I  had  only 
Fritz  for  company,  but  now  I  have  Betty.  I'll  just 
stop  wishin'  I  could  run  away  from  the  Cuckoo's 
Nest,  and  I'll  have  all  the  good  times  that  I  can  get 
out  of  this  visit." 


JO  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

She  felt  better  now.  The  tears  seemed  to  have 
washed  away  the  ache  in  her  throat.  Bradley  was 
calling  her,  and  only  stopping  at  the  wash-stand  a 
moment  to  bathe  her  red  eyes,  she  went  out  to  see 
what  he  wanted. 

His  freckled  face  was  all  alight  with  a  beaming 
smile,  as  if  he  were  the  bearer  of  good  news.  His 
hands  were  behind  his  back,  and  as  he  came  toward 
her  he  called  out,  in  the  pleasantest  of  voices, 
"  Which  will  you  take,  Lloyd,  right  or  left  ? " 

Forgetting  that  Betty  had  cautioned  her  about  his 
love  of  teasing,  and  remembering  the  apples  he  had 
brought  her  the  day  before,  she  answered,  with  a 
friendly  smile,  "  I  choose  what's  in  the  right  hand." 

"Then  shut  your  eyes,  and  hold  fast  all  I  give 
you." 

Squinting  her  eyelids  tightly  together,  Lloyd  held 
out  her  unsuspecting  little  hand,  only  to  receive  a 
squirming  bunch  of  clammy,  wriggling  fishing  worms. 
She  gave  a  loud  shriek,  and  wrung  the  hand  that  the 
worms  had  touched,  as  if  it  had  been  stung. 

"  Oo-ooh  !  Bradley  Appleton  !  You  horrid  boy !  " 
she  cried.  "  How  could  you  be  so  mean  ?  There's 
nothing  I  hate  like  worms.  I  could  touch  a  mouse 
or  even  a  snake  soonah  than  those  bare  crawly 
things !     Oh,  I'll  nevah,  nevah  be  able  to  get  the  feel 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  7 1 

of  them  off  my  hands,  even  if  I  should  scrub  them  a 
week.  I  don't  mind  things  with  feet,  but  the  feel 
of  the  squirmin'  is  awful ! " 

Bradley  laughed  so  loudly  over  the  success  of  his 
joke,  that  Betty  came  out  smiling  to  see  what  was 
the  matter,  and  was  surprised  to  see  Lloyd  marching 
indignantly  into  the  house,  her  head  held  high  and 
her  face  very  red. 

"  Well,  I  didn't  do  anything  but  give  her  a  hand- 
ful of  angleworms,"  said  Bradley,  in  reply  to  Betty's 
demand  for  an  explanation.  "  Molly  heard  her  say 
that  she  despised  worms,  and  that  nothing  could  make 
her  touch  one  or  put  it  on  a  hook.  I  was  just  show- 
ing her  for  her  own  good  that  there  is  nothing  to  be 
afraid  of  in  a  harmless  little  fishing-worm,  and  she 
had  to  go  off  and  get  mad.  Girls  are  such  touchy 
things.     They  make  me  tired." 

Long  experience  had  taught  Betty  that  the  best 
thing  to  do,  when  Bradley  was  in  a  teasing  mood,  was 
to  keep  out  of  his  way,  so  she  turned  without  a  word 
and  went  in  search  of  Lloyd.  As  she  did  so,  the 
rain  that  they  had  been  expecting  all  morning  came 
dashing  against  the  window-panes  in  torrents.  Sud- 
denly it  grew  so  dark  one  could  scarcely  see  to  read 
without  lighting  a  lamp. 

"  Come  up  to  my  room,  Lloyd,"  called  Betty,  stop 


72  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

ping  at  the  parlour  door,  with  Davy  tagging  behind 
her.  "It's  lighter  up  there,  and  I  love  to  be  close 
up  under  the  roof  when  the  rain  patters  on  it." 

"Wait  till  I  finish  washing  ray  hands,"  answered 
Lloyd,  looking  up  with  a  disgusted  face.  "  Ugh ! 
I  can't  wash  away  that  horrid  squirrain'  feelin',  even 
with  a  nail-brush." 

As  Davy  climbed  the  stairs  after  them  he  caught 
Lloyd  by  the  dress.  "  Say  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  half 
whisper,  "it  was  Molly  that  told  Bradley  to  put 
those  worms  on  you.  She  dared  him  to,  and  they're 
laughing  about  it  now,  down  in  the  kitchen." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  Lloyd's  tongue  to  say,  "  They're 
both  of  them  mean,  hateful  things,  and  I'll  get  even 
with  them  if  it  takes  all  the  rest  of  my  visit  to  do  it." 
But  before  the  words  could  slip  out  she  remembered 
the  definition,  "  Putting  up  with  anything  that  hap- 
pens to  you  without  making  a  fuss  about  it." 

"  There  couldn't  anything  nastier  happen  than  fish- 
in '-worms,"  she  said  to  herself,  "so  this  must  be  one 
of  the  times  I  need  patience  the  very  most." 

Although  the  lesson  was  remembered  in  time  to 
keep  her  from  getting  into  a  rage,  it  did  not  put 
her  into  a  good  humour.  It  was  a  very  unhappy  little 
face  that  looked  out  of  the  gable  window,  against 
which   the   autumn    rain   was    dashing.     Her    head 


A    TIME  FOR  PATIENCE.  73 

ached  from  all  its  bumps  and  bruises,  and  her  eyes 
wore  as  forlorn  an  expression  as  if  she  were  some 
unhappy  Crusoe,  cast  away  on  a  desert  island  with 
no  hope  of  rescue. 

Davy  perched  himself  on  the  trunk  and  awaited 
developments.  Betty  looked  around  the  room  in 
search  of  something  to  brighten  the  dull  day ;  but 
the  bare  walls  offered  no  suggestion  of  entertainment. 
Lloyd's  fingers  drumming  restlessly  on  the  window- 
pane,  and  the  patter  of  the  rain  on  the  roof,  were  the 
only  sounds  in  the  room. 

"  I  wondah  if  it's  rainin'  where  Joyce  and  Eugenia 
are,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  after  awhile,  breaking 
the  long  silence. 

"Oh,  let's  write  to  them,"  cried  Betty,  eagerly. 
"  One  can  write  East  and  one  can  write  West,  and 
we'll  tell  them  all  that  has  happened  in  the  Cuckoo's 
Nest  since  we  came  back  to  it." 

Davy  slid  off  the  trunk  in  silent  disapproval  when 
the  writing  material  was  brought  out,  and  the  girls 
began  their  letters.  The  scratching  of  the  pens 
across  the  paper  and  the  dismal  dripping  of  the  rain 
was  too  monotonous  for  him,  and  he  felt  forced  to  go 
below  in  search  of  livelier  companionship. 


CHAPTER  VI. 
molly's  story. 

They  had  been  writing  a  long  time,  when  the 
Little  Colonel  looked  up  with  a  mischievous  smile. 
"Joyce  will  think  that  this  is  a  wondahful  place," 
she  said.  "  I've  told  her  all  about  my  bein'  chased 
by  a  Barley-bright  witch,  and  how  ugly  she  was,  and 
what  Davy  said  about  her  goin'  through  keyholes. 
It  sounds  so  real  when  I  read  it  ovah  that  I  could 
half-way  make  myself  believe  that  she  is  one.  I'm 
goin'  to  slip  across  into  her  room  now,  and  see  if 
I  can't  find  the  broomstick  that  she  rides  around 
on  at  night.  If  there'd  just  be  a  black  cat  sittin'  on 
her  pillow,  I  could  almost  believe  what  Davy  said 
about  her  hoodoo  word.  Wouldn't  she  be  mad  if  she 
knew  what  was  in  this  letter  ?  I  told  Joyce  how 
mean  she'd  acted  about  the  fishin'-worms  too,  and 
how  she's  scowled  at  us  evah  since  we  came." 

Betty  looked  up  with  a  preoccupied  smile,  for  she 
had  long  ago  finished  her  letter  to  Eugenia  and  was 
busy  with  some  verses  that  she  was  trying  to  write 

74 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  J$ 

about  the  rain.  The  rhymes  were  falling  into  place 
almost  as  easily  and  musically  as  the  rain-drops 
tinkling  down  the  eaves,  and  her  face  was  flushed 
with  the  pleasure  of  it.  She  was  so  wrapped  up 
in  her  own  thoughts  that  she  did  not  understand 
what  Lloyd  was  saying,  and  smiled  a  reply  without 
the  faintest  idea  of  what  it  was  that  she  proposed 
to  do. 

Lloyd  laid  down  her  pen,  and,  tiptoeing  across 
the  narrow  passage  that  divided  Betty's  room  from 
Molly's,  opened  the  door  and  looked  in.  She  had 
thought  that  the  parlour  bedroom  down-stairs  was 
queer,  and  that  Betty's  room  was  pitifully  bare  and 
common,  but  such  cheerlessness  as  this  she  had 
certainly  never  seen  before,  and  scarcely  imagined. 

It  was  an  attic-like  room  over  the  kitchen,  with 
such  a  low  sloping  ceiling  that  she  could  touch  it 
with  her  hand,  except  when  she  stood  in  the  middle 
of  the  room.  There  was  a  rough,  unpainted  floor, 
a  cot,  a  dry-goods  box  covered  with  newspaper,  on 
which  stood  a  tin  basin  and  a  broken-nosed  water- 
pitcher.  Some  nails,  driven  along  the  wall,  held  a 
row  of  clothes,  and  a  chair  with  both  rockers  broken 
off  was  propped  against  the  wall.  Lloyd  looked 
around  her  with  a  shiver.  The  only  bright  spot 
in  the  room  was  a  bunch  of  golden-rod  in  a  bottle, 


j6  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

and  the  only  picture,  a  page  torn  from  an  illustrated 
newspaper,  and  pinned  to  the  wall. 

Wondering  what  kind  of  a  picture  such  a  creature 
as  the  Barley-bright  witch  would  choose  to  decorate 
her  room,  Lloyd  walked  across  to  examine  it.  It 
was  the  front  page  from  an  old  Harper's  Weekly. 
The  date  caught  her  eye  first :  December  25,  1897. 
And  then  she  found  herself  looking  into  a  room  still 
more  pitiful  than  the  one  in  which  she  stood,  for  the 
pictured  room  was  part  of  an  old  New  York  tene- 
ment, and  sobbing  in  the  corner  was  a  ragged,  half- 
starved  little  waif,  heartbroken  because  Santa  Claus 
had  passed  her  by,  and  she  had  found  an  empty 
stocking  on  Christmas  morning. 

Lloyd  could  not  see  the  face  hidden  in  the  tattered 
apron,  which  the  disappointed  little  hands  held  up. 
She  could  not  hear  the  sobs  that  she  knew  were 
shaking  the  thin  little  shoulders,  but  she  felt  the 
misery  of  the  scene  as  forcibly  as  if  the  real  child 
stood  before  her.  As  she  stood  and  looked,  she 
knew  that  if  all  the  troubles  and  disappointments  of 
her  whole  life  could  be  put  together,  they  would  be 
as  only  a  drop  compared  to  the  grief  of  the  poor 
little  creature  in  the  picture. 

"Oh,  Betty!"  she  called.  "Come  heah  quick! 
I  want  to  show  you  something." 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  J? 

The  distress  in  Lloyd's  voice  made  Betty  hurry 
across  the  passage  with  her  pen  in  her  hand,  wonder- 
ing what  could  be  the  matter. 

"  Look ! "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  pointing  to  the  pic 
ture.  "  How  can  Molly  keep  such  a  thing  in  her 
room  ?  Do  you  s'pose  she  was  evah  like  that  ?  It's 
enough  to  make  her  cry  every  time  she  looks  at  it." 

"  Maybe  she  used  to  be  like  that,"  said  Betty, 
examining  the  picture  carefully,  and  maybe  she 
keeps  it  here  to  remind  her  how  much  better  off 
she  is  now  than  she  used  to  be." 

"  I  can't  see  that  her  room  is  much  nicer,"  said 
Lloyd,  looking  around  with  an  expression  of  disgust. 

"  It  always  has  been  used  as  a  sort  of  storeroom," 
explained  Betty.  "This  is  the  first  time  I've  been 
in  here  since  I  came  back,  and  I  didn't  know  how  it  had 
been  fixed  for  Molly.  Cousin  Hetty  hasn't  any  time 
or  money  to  spend  making  it  look  nice.  Besides,  she 
is  only  in  here  for  a  little  while.  She  is  to  have  my 
room  when  I  go  away.  If  I'm  abroad  all  winter,  and 
with  Joyce  next  summer,  and  at  Locust  going  to 
school  the  year  after,  as  godmother  has  planned,  I 
suppose  I'll  never  be  back  here  again  to  really  live. 
I'm  going  to  make  a  new  pincushion  and  a  cover 
for  my  bureau,  and  put  a  white  curtain  at  the  win- 
dow before  I  leave.     Maybe  it  will  look  as  fine  %q 


?8  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

Molly  as  my  white  and  gold  room  did  to  me  at  the 
House  Beautiful.  It  isn't  any  wonder  she  feels  jeal- 
ous of  us,  when  she  hasn't  a  single  nice  thing  in  the 
whole  world." 

"  Maybe  I  oughtn't  to  have  written  such  spiteful 
things  about  her  to  Joyce,"  said  Lloyd,  whose  heart 
began  to  soften  and  whose  conscience  pricked  as  she 
turned  again  to  the  picture. 

But  even  while  they  were  planning  the  changes 
they  would  make  in  the  gable  room  for  Molly,  there 
was  a  stealthy  step  on  the  stairs,  and  Molly  herself 
stood  in  the  door,  glaring  at  them  like  an  angry 
tigress. 

"  How  dare  you  !  "  she  cried,  stamping  her  foot  in 
a  furious  rage.  "  How  dare  you  come  in  here  spying 
on  me  and  making  fun  of  my  things  and  looking  at 
my  picture  !  You  sha'n't  look  at  my  little  Dot  when 
she  is  so  miserable.  You  sha'n't  put  eyes  on  her 
again  ! " 

With  a  white  angry  face  she  dashed  past  them, 
tore  the  picture  from  the  wall,  and  with  it  held  tightly 
against  her  threw  herself  face  downward  on  the  cot. 

"We  were  not  spying  on  you," began  Lloyd,  indig- 
nantly.    "  We  were  not  making  fun  of  your  things  !  " 

"  I  know  better.  Get  out  of  this  room,  both  of 
you  !     This  minute !  "  cried  Molly,  lifting  her  white 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  79 

face  in  which  her  angry  eyes  burned  like  flames. 
Then  she  buried  her  head  in  her  pillow,  sobbing  bit- 
terly :  "  If  y-you  were  an  or-orphan  —  and  hadn't  but 
one  thing  in  the  world,  you  wouldn't  want  p-people 
to  come  sp- spying  on  you,  that  way." 

Puzzled  and  almost  frightened  at  such  an  out- 
burst, the  girls  retreated  to  the  doorway,  and  then 
as  she  continued  to  storm  at  them  they  went  back  to 
Betty's  room.  They  could  hear  her  sobbing  even 
with  the  door  shut.  Presently  Betty  said :  "  I'm 
going  in  there  again,  and  see  if  I  can  find  out  what's 
the  matter.  I  am  an  orphan,  too,  and  maybe  I  can 
coax  her  to  tell  me,  when  she  knows  how  sorry  I  am 
for  her." 

People  wondered  sometimes  at  Betty's  way  of 
walking  into  their  hearts ;  but  sympathy  is  an  open 
sesame  to  nearly  all  gates,  and  sympathy  was  Betty's 
unfailing  key.  It  was  always  ready  in  her  loving 
little  hand. 

Presently,  when  Molly's  wild  burst  of  angry  sob- 
bing had  subsided  somewhat,  Betty  ventured  back  to 
her.  Lloyd  heard  a  low  murmuring  of  voices,  first 
Betty's  and  then  Molly's,  as  one  little  orphan  poured 
out  her  story  to  the  other.  It  was  nearly  an  houi 
before  Betty  came  back  to  her  room.  Lloyd  had 
written  another  letter  while  she  waited,  and  now  sat 


BO  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

leaning  against  the  window-sill,  listening  to  the  mo- 
notonous  drip-drop-drip-drop  from  a  leaky  spout  above 
the  window. 

"  Well,  what  was  it  ? "  she  asked,  eagerly,  as  Betty 
opened  the  door. 

"  Oh,  you  never  heard  anything  so  pitiful,"  ex- 
claimed Betty,  sitting  down  on  her  bed  and  drawing 
her  feet  up  under  her  comfortably  before  she  began. 
"  It  is  just  like  a  story  in  a  book. 

"  Molly  says  that  when  she  was  little  her  father 
was  a  railroad  conductor,  and  she  and  her  mothei 
and  grandmother  and  baby  sister  lived  in  a  little 
house  at  the  edge  of  town.  It  was  near  enough  the 
railroad  track  for  them  to  wave  to  her  father,  from 
the  front  door,  whenever  his  train  passed.  He  could 
come  home  only  once  a  week.  She  and  Dot  thought 
he  was  the  best  father  anvbody  ever  had,  for  he 
never  came  home  without  something  in  his  pockets 
for  them,  and  he  rode  them  around  on  his  shoulders 
and  played  with  them  all  the  time  he  was  in  the 
house.  He  was  always  bringing  things  to  their 
mother,  too,  a  pretty  cup  and  saucer  or  a  pot  of 
flowers,  or  something  to  wear ;  and  as  for  the  old 
grandmother,  she  spent  her  time  telling  the  neigh- 
bours how  good  her  son  was  to  her. 

'*  But  Molly  says  one  summer  they  moved  away 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  8 1 

from  the  house  by  the  railroad  track  and  took  a 
smaller  one  in  town,  where  there  wasn't  any  garden 
and  trees,  and  where  there  wasn't  even  any  grass,  ex 
cept  a  narrow  strip  in  the  front  yard.  Her  father 
had  lost  his  place  as  a  conductor,  and  was  out  of  work 
for  a  long  time.  By  and  by  they  sold  their  piano 
and  the  carpets  and  the  nicest  chairs.  Then  they 
moved  again.  This  time  it  was  to  a  cottage  without 
even  a  strip  of  grass.  The  front  door  opened  out 
on  the  pavement  and  there  was  no  place  for  them 
to  play  except  on  the  streets.  Their  father  never 
brought  anything  home  to  them  any  more,  and  never 
played  with  them.  They  couldn't  understand  what 
made  him  so  cross,  or  what  made  their  mother  cry  so 
much,  until  one  day  she  heard  some  of  their  neigh- 
bours talking. 

"  She  and  Dot  were  waiting  in  the  corner  grocery 
for  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  she  heard  one  woman  say  to 
another,  in  a  low  tone,  'Those  are  Jim  Conner's 
children,  poor  little  kids.  My  man  says  he  used  to 
be  one  of  the  best  conductors  on  the  road,  but  he 
lost  his  job  when  he  took  to  getting  drunk  every 
Saturday  night.  He's  going  down-hill  now,  fast  as 
a  man  can  go.  Heaven  only  knows  what'll  become 
of  his  family  if  he  doesn't  put  on  the  brakes  soon.' 

**  Then  Molly  knew  what  was  the  matter,  and  she 


82  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

didn't  make  her  mother  cry  by  asking  any  more  ques. 
tions  when  they  moved  again  the  next  week.  That 
time  they  had  only  two  rooms  up-stairs  over  a  barber 
shop,  and  Molly's  mother  died  that  summer.  Then 
her  father  drank  harder  than  ever,  and  never  brought 
any  money  home,  and  by  fall  they  had  sold  nearly 
everything  that  was  left,  and  moved  into  one  room  in 
an  old  tenement-house,  up  two  flights  of  stairs. 

"  Their  grandmother  had  to  go  away  every  morning 
to  look  for  work.  She  was  too  old  to  wash,  or  she 
might  have  had  plenty  to  do.  Sometimes  she  got 
odd  jobs  of  cleaning,  and  sometimes  she  made  button- 
holes for  a  pants  factory.  It  took  nearly  all  the 
money  she  could  make  to  pay  the  rent  of  that  room, 
and  often  and  often,  Molly  said,  there  were  days 
when  they  had  nothing  but  scraps  of  stale  bread  to 
eat.  Sometimes  there  wasn't  even  that,  and  she  and 
Dot  would  be  so  cold  and  hungry  that  they  woulc 
huddle  together  in  a  corner  and  cry.  She  said  it 
made  her  feel  so  awful  to  hear  poor  little  Dot  sob- 
bing for  something  to  eat,  that  she  would  have  gone 
out  on  the  streets  and  begged,  but  their  grandmother 
always  locked  them  up  when  she  went  away." 

"  What  for  ? "  interrupted  Lloyd,  who  was  listening 
with  breathless  attention. 

"  She  was  afraid  that  their  father  would  come  home 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  83 

drunk  and  find  them  alone.  He  didn't  live  with 
them  any  more,  but  several  times,  before  she  began 
locking  them  up,  he  staggered  in,  and  frightened 
them  dreadfully.  Their  ragged  clothes  and  their 
half-starved  looks  seemed  to  make  him  furious.  It 
hurt  his  conscience,  I  suppose,  and  that  made  him 
want  to  hurt  somebody.  Molly  says  he  beat  them 
sometimes  till  the  neighbours  interfered.  More  than 
once  he  shut  them  up  in  a  dark  closet,  trying  to 
make  them  tell  where  their  grandmother  kept  her 
money.  They  couldn't  tell  him,  for  she  didn't  have 
any  money,  but  he  kept  them  shut  up  in  the  dark, 
hours  at  a  time. 

"  One  night  he  came  in  crosser  than  they  had  ever 
seen  him,  and  threw  things  around  dreadfully.  He 
struck  his  old  mother  in  the  face,  beat  Molly,  and 
threw  a  stick  of  wood  at  little  Dot.  It  just  missed 
putting  out  her  right  eye,  and  made  such  a  deep  cut 
over  it  that  they  had  to  send  for  a  doctor  to  sew  it 
up.  He  said  she  would  carry  the  scar  all  her  life,  and 
he  could  not  see  how  the  blow  had  missed  killing  her. 

"  It  nearly  broke  the  old  grandmother's  heart.  She 
sat  up  all  night,  and  Molly  says  she  remembers  that 
time  like  a  dreadful  dream.  Half  the  time  the  old 
woman  was  rocking  Dot  in  her  arms,  crying  over 
her,  and  half  the  time  she  was  walking  the  floor. 


84  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  Molly  says  that  now,  when  she  shuts  her  eyes  at 
night,  she  can  hear  her  saying,  over  and  over,  'Oh, 
my  Jimmy !  My  Jimmy !  To  think  that  my  only 
child  should  come  to  this !  Oh,  my  Jimmy !  The 
baby  boy  that  was  my  sunshine,  how  can  it  be  that 
you've  become  the  sorrow  of  my  life !  '  Then  she'd 
walk  up  and  down  the  room  as  if  she  were  crazy, 
calling  out,  '  But  it's  the  drink  that  did  it !  It's  the 
drink,  and  a  curse  be  on  everything  that  helps  to 
bring  it  into  the  world.' 

"  Molly  says  that  she  looked  so  terrible,  with  her 
white  hair  streaming  over  her  shoulders,  and  her 
eyes  staring,  that  she  hid  her  face  in  the  bed- 
clothes. But  she  couldn't  shut  out  the  words.  She 
shouted  them  so  loud  that  the  family  in  the  next 
room  couldn't  sleep,  and  knocked  on  the  wall  for  her 
to  stop.  But  she  only  went  on  walking  and  wring- 
ing her  hands  and  calling,  '  A  curse  on  all  who  buy 
and  all  who  brew !  A  curse  on  every  distiller  !  On 
every  saloon-keeper !  On  every  man  who  has  so 
much  as  a  finger  in  this  business  of  death !  May  all 
the  shame  and  the  sin  and  the  sorrow  they  have 
sown  in  other  homes  be  reaped  a  hundredfold  in 
their  own ! ' 

"  I  suppose  it  made  such  a  strong  impression  on 
Molly,  hearing  her  grandmother  take  on  so  terribly, 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  85 

that  she  remembered  every  word,  and  will  as  long 
as  she  lives.  She  said  the  rain  poured  that  night 
till  it  leaked  down  on  the  bed,  and  she  and  Dot  had 
to  snuggle  up  together  at  the  foot,  to  keep  dry. 
Her  grandmother  walked  the  floor  till  daylight. 
The  neighbours  complained  of  her,  and  said  that 
her  troubles  had  unsettled  her  mind,  and  that  she 
would  have  to  be  sent  some  place  to  be  taken  care 
of.  All  she  could  talk  about  was  the  drink  that  had 
ruined  her  Jimmy,  and  the  awful  things  she  prayed 
would  happen  to  anybody  who  had  anything  to  do 
with  making  or  selling  whiskey. 

"  She  couldn't  work  any  longer,  and  they  were 
almost  starving.  One  day  she  was  taken  to  the 
almshouse,  and  the  family  in  the  next  room  took 
care  of  Molly  and  Dot  until  arrangements  could  be 
made  to  send  them  to  an  of^han  asylum.  It  was 
hard  to  get  them  into  one,  you  know,  because  their 
father  was  living. 

"  They  stayed  several  weeks  with  those  people,  and 
Molly  helped  take  care  of  the  baby,  for  she  was  a 
big  girl,  eleven  years  old,  then.  Dot  was  seven,  but 
so  little  and  starved  that  she  looked  scarcely  half 
that  old.  She  couldn't  do  much  to  help,  but  they 
sent  her  on  errands  sometimes. 

"One  day  she  went  to  the  meat-shop  around  the 


86  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

corner,  and  she  never  came  back.  Molly  hunted  in 
all  the  alleys  and  courtyards  for  her,  until  some  one 
brought  her  a  message  from  her  father,  that  he  had 
taken  Dot  away  to  another  town.  He  didn't  care 
what  became  of  Molly,  he  said.  She  had  been  saucy 
to  him,  but  no  orphan  asylum  should  have  his  baby. 
He'd  hide  her  where  she  wouldn't  be  found  in  a 
hurry. 

"  Molly  says  she  would  have  liked  it  at  the  asylum 
if  Dot  could  have  been  with  her,  but  because  she 
couldn't  it  made  her  hate  everything  and  everybody 
in  the  world.  There  was  a  big  distillery  in  sight  of 
her  window.  She  could  see  the  roof  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning,  when  she  opened  her  eyes,  and  the 
last  thing  at  night.  Many  a  time  before  she  got  out 
of  bed  she'd  think  of  her  grandmother's  words  and 
repeat  them  just  like  it  was  her  prayers.  She'd  think 
'  It's  drink  that  put  me  here,  and  it's  what  separated 
me  from  Dot,'  and  then  she'd  say,  «  A  curse  on 
those  who  sell,  and  those  who  make  it,  and  on 
every  hand  that  helps  to  bring  it  into  the  world ! 
Amen.' " 

"  How  dreadful ! "  exclaimed  the  Little  Colonel, 
with  a  shudder.     "  She  is  as  bad  as  a  heathen." 

"But  you  can't  wonder  at  it,"  said  Betty.  "We 
would   have  felt  the  same  way  in  her  place.     Sup- 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  87 

pose  it  was  your  Papa  Jack  that  had  been  made  a 
drunkard,  and  that  he'd  begin  to  be  mean  to  you, 
and  make  so  much  trouble  that  godmother  would 
die,  and  you'd  have  to  leave  the  House  Beautiful 
and  be  sent  to  an  asylum,  and  all  on  account  of  the 
saloons.  Wouldn't  yoti  hate  them  and  everything 
that  helped  keep  them  going  ? " 

Lloyd  only  shivered  at  the  thought,  without 
answering.  It  was  not  possible  for  her  to  suppose 
such  a  horrible  thing  about  her  beloved  father,  but 
she  felt  the  justice  of  Betty's  view. 

"  While  she  was  at  the  asylum,"  continued  Betty, 
'•  some  one  sent  a  pile  of  old  magazines,  and  among 
them  she  found  the  picture  that  we  saw.  She  says 
that  it  looks  exactly  like  Dot,  and  that  is  the  way 
she  used  to  stand  and  cry  sometimes  when  she  was 
cold  and  hungry,  and  there  wasn't  anything  in  the 
house  to  eat.  It  makes  her  perfectly  miserable 
whenever  she  looks  at  it,  but  it  is  so  much  like  Dot 
that  she  can't  bear  to  give  it  up.  Now  you  see  why 
she  didn't  like  us.  It  didn't  seem  fair  to  her  that  we 
should  have  so  much  to  make  us  happy,  when  she 
has  so  little.  She  has  had  a  hard  enough  time  to 
spoil  anybody's  disposition,  I  think." 

Lloyd  was  in  tears  by  this  time,  and  reaching 
across  the  table  for  the  letter  she  had  written  about 


88  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

the  Barley-bright  witch,  she  began   tearing  it  into 
pieces. 

"  Oh,  if  I'd  only  known,"  she  said,  "  I  never 
would  have  written  those  things  about  her.  I'll 
write  another  one  this  afternoon,  and  tell  Joyce 
all  about  her.  Is  she  still  crying  in  there, 
Betty  ? " 

"No,  she  stopped  before  I  left.  I  told  her  we 
would  all  try  to  find  her  little  sister,  and  that  I  was 
sure  godmother  could  do  it,  even  if  everybody  else 
failed.  But  she  didn't  seem  to  think  that  there  was 
much  hope." 

"  Did  you  tell  her  about  Fairchance  ? "  asked 
Lloyd,  "  or  Joyce's  finding  Jules's  great-aunt  Desire^ 
that  time  she  went  to  the  Little  Sisters  of  the 
Poor  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Betty. 

"Then  let  me  tell  her,"  cried  the  Little  Colonel 
starting  up  eagerly. 

She  ran  on  into  Molly's  room,  while  thoughtful 
Betty  slipped  down-stairs  to  offer  her  services  in 
Molly's  place,  that  she  might  listen  undisturbed  to 
Lloyd's  tale  of  comfort,  —  all  about  Jonesy  and  his 
brother,  and  the  bear,  who  had  found  a  fair  chance 
to  begin  life  again,  in  the  home  that  the  two  little 
knights  built  for  them,  in  their  efforts  to  "  right  the 


MOLLY'S  STORY.  89 

wrong  and  follow  the  king."  All  about  old  great- 
aunt  Desir6,  who  had  been  found  in  a  pauper's  home 
and  brought  back  to  her  own  again,  through  the 
Gate  of  the  Giant  Scissors,  on  Christmas  Day  in  the 
morning. 

"It  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  sighed  Molly,  when 
Lloyd  had  finished.  "  It  might  happen  to  some  peo- 
ple, but  it's  too  good  to  happen  to  me.  It  sounds 
like  something  out  of  a  story-book." 

"  Most  of  the  things  in  story-books  had  to  happen 
first  before  they  were  written  about,"  answered  the 
Little  Colonel.  "  You've  got  so  many  friends  now 
that  surely  some  of  them  will  be  able  to  do  something 
to  find  her." 

Presently  Molly  looked  up,  saying,  in  a  hesitating 
way,  "  Several  people  have  been  good  to  me  before, 
but  I  never  thought  about  them  doing  it  because 
they  were  my  friends.  I  thought  they  treated  me 
kindly  just  because  they  pitied  me,  and  that  made 
me  cross." 

Lloyd  was  turning  the  little  ring  that  Eugenia  had 
given  her  around  on  her  finger,  and  something  in  the 
touch  of  the  little  lover's  knot  of  gold  recalled  all 
that  she  had  resolved  about  the  "  Road  of  the  Loving 
Heart."  It  was  the  ring  that  made  her  say,  gently, 
"  You  mustn't  think  that  about  Betty  and  me.    We'll 


90  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

be  your  really  truly  friends  just  as  we  are  Joyce's 
and  Eugenia's." 

Then  to  Molly's  great  surprise  the  Little  Colonel's 
pretty  face  leaned  over  hers  an  instant,  and  she  felt  a 
quick  kiss  on  her  forehead.  She  lay  there  a  moment 
longer  without  speaking,  and  then  sat  up,  a  bright 
smile  flashing  across  her  tear-swollen  face.  "  Some- 
how the  whole  world  seems  different,"  she  cried. 
"It  seems  so  queer  to  think  I've  really  got  friends 
like  other  people." 

There  was  a  warm  glow  in  the  Little  Colonel's 
heart  when  she  went  back  to  Betty's  room.  The 
consciousness  that  she  had  carried  comfort  and  sun- 
shine into  another's  life  brightened  the  rainy  day  until 
it  no  longer  seemed  dark  and  dreary.  That  comfort- 
able consciousness  was  still  with  her  in  the  afternoon, 
when  she  sat  down  to  write  another  letter  to  Joyce, 
—  a  letter,  not  filled  this  time  with  her  own  mishaps 
and  misfortunes,  but  so  full  of  sympathy  for  Molly's 
troubles  that  no  one  who  read  it  could  fail  to  be 
touched  and  interested. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    FEAST    OF    SAILS. 

Now  ring  your  merriest  tune,  ye  silver  bells  of  the 
magic  caldron.  'Tis  a  birthday  feast  that  awakes 
your  chiming,  so  make  your  key-note  joy.  And 
now  if  the  little  princes  and  princesses  will  thrust 
their  curious  fingers  into  the  steam  as  the  water 
bubbles  again,  it  will  take  them  far  away  from  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest.  They  will  see  the  village  of  Plains- 
ville,  Kansas,  and  the  little  brown  house  where  the 
Ware  family  lived. 

The  day  that  the  Little  Colonel's  letter  reached 
Joyce  was  Holland's  tenth  birthday.  One  would  not 
have  dreamed  that  there  was  a  party  of  ten  boys  in 
the  parlour  that  bright  September  afternoon,  for  the 
shutter's  were  closed,  and  every  blind  tightly  drawn. 
Jack  had  darkened  the  room  to  give  them  a  magic 
lantern  exhibition,  while  Joyce  was  spreading  the 
table  under  an  apple-tree  in  the  side  yard.  Mary, 
her  funny  little  braids  with  their  big  bows  of  blue 

91 


92  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

ribbon  continually  bobbing  over  her  shoulders,  was 
helping  to  carry  out  the  curious  dishes  from  the 
house  that  had  taken  all  morning  to  prepare. 

There  was  never  much  money  to  spend  in  enter- 
tainments in  the  little  brown  house,  but  birthdays 
never  passed  unheeded.  Love  can  always  find  some 
way  to  keep  the  red-letter  days  of  its  calendar. 
Joyce  and  her  mother  had  planned  a  novel  supper 
for  Holland  and  his  friends,  thinking  it  would  make 
a  merry  feast  for  them  to  laugh  over  now,  and  a 
pleasant  memory  by  and  by,  when  three  score 
years  had  been  added  to  his  ten.  Looking  back  on 
the  day  when  somebody  cared  that  it  was  his  birth- 
day, and  celebrated  it  with  loving  forethought,  would 
kindle  a  glow  in  his  heart,  no  matter  how  old  and 
white-haired  he  might  live  to  be. 

The  little  mother  could  not  take  much  time  from 
her  sewing,  but  she  suggested  and  helped  with  the 
verses,  and  came  out  when  the  table  was  nearly 
ready,  to  add  a  few  finishing  touches. 

A  Feast  of  Sails,  Joyce  called  it,  saying  that,  if 
Cinderella's  godmother  could  change  a  pumpkin  into 
a  gilded  coach,  there  was  no  reason  why  they  should 
not  transform  an  ordinary  luncheon  into  a  fleet  of 
boats,  for  a  boy  whose  greatest  ambition  was  to  be  a 
naval  officer,  and  who  was  always  talking  about  the  sea. 


A  FEAST  OF  SAILS.  93 

These  were  the  invitations,  printed  in  Jack's  best 
style,  and  decorated  by  Joyce  with  a  little  water- 
colour  sketch  of  a  ship  in  full  sail: 

Please  come,  hale  and  hearty, 

To  Holland  Ware's  party, 

September,  the  twenty-first  day, 

And  partake  in  a  bunch 

Of  a  queer  birthday  lunch, 

And  afterward  join  in  a  play. 

The  things  which  we'll  eat 

Will  be  boats,  sour  and  sweet, 

With  maybe  an  entree  of  whales. 

Will  you  please  to  arrive 

Awhile  before  five, 

The  hour  that  this  boat-luncheon  sails. 

The  invitations  aroused  great  interest  among  all 
Holland's  friends,  and  every  boy  was  at  the  gate 
long  before  the  appointed  hour,  curious  to  see  the 
"  boats  sour  and  sweet "  that  could  be  eaten.  But 
even  Holland  did  not  know  what  was  in  store  for 
them.  Joyce  had  driven  him  out  of  the  kitchen 
while  she  was  preparing  the  surprise,  and  would  not 
begin  to  set  the  table  until  Jack  had  marshalled  every 
boy  into  the  dark  parlour  and  begun  his  magic  lan- 
tern show.  The  baby  was  with  them,  a  baby  no 
longer,  he  stoutly  declared,  as  he  had  that  day  been 
promoted  from  kilts  to  his  first  pair  of  trousers,  and 


94  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

he  insisted  on  being  called  henceforth  by  his  own 
name,  Norman. 

As  he  and  Jack  were  to  be  added  to  the  party  of 
ten,  the  table  was  set  for  twelve.  It  was  a  gay  sight 
when  everything  was  ready.  From  the  mirror  lake 
in  the  middle,  on  which  a  dozen  toy  swans  were 
afloat,  arose  a  lighthouse  made  of  doughnuts.  It 
was  surmounted  by  a  little  lantern  from  which 
floated  a  tiny  flag.  At  one  end  of  the  table  a  huge 
watermelon  cut  lengthwise,  and  furnished  with  masts 
and  sails  of  red  crepe  paper,  looked  like  a  brig  just 
launched.  At  the  other  end  rose  the  great  white 
island  of  the  birthday  cake,  with  its  ten  red  candles. 
Ail  down  the  sides  of  the  table  was  a  flutter  of  yellow 
and  green  and  white  and  blue  sails,  for  at  each  plate 
was  a  little  fleet  sporting  the  colours  of  the  rainbow. 

It  had  been  an  interesting  task  to  make  the 
dressed  eggs  into  canoes,  to  cut  the  cheese  into 
square  rafts,  and  hollow  out  the  long  cucumber 
pickles  into  skiffs,  fitting  sails  or  pennons  to  each 
broomstraw  mast.  It  had  been  still  more  interesting 
to  change  a  bag  of  big  fat  raisins  into  turtles,  by 
poking  five  cloves  and  a  bit  of  stem  into  each  one  for 
the  head,  legs,  and  tail. 

Joyce  took  an  artistic  pleasure  in  arranging  the 
orange  boats  around  the  table.      She  had  made  them 


A   FEAST  OF  SAILS.  95 

by  cutting  an  orange  in  two,  and  putting  a  stick  of 
peppermint  candy  in  each  half  for  a  mast,  and  they 
had  a  foreign,  Chinese  look  with  their  queer  sails, 
flaming  with  little  red-ink  dragons.  Jack  had  drawn 
them.  Here  and  there,  over  the  sea  of  white  table- 
cloth, she  had  scattered  candy  fish  and  the  raisin  tur- 
tles. At  the  last  moment  there  were  potato  chips  to 
be  heated,  and  islands  of  sandwiches  and  jelly  to  dis- 
tribute, and  the  can  of  sardines  to  open.  Mary  had 
insisted  on  having  the  sardines  to  personate  whales, 
and  she  herself  served  one  to  each  guest  on  a  little 
shell-shaped  plate  belonging  to  her  set  of  doll  dishes. 
It  had  taken  so  long  to  prepare  all  these  boats,  that 
Joyce  had  had  no  time  to  decorate  the  menu  cards  as 
she  had  planned,  but  Jack  had  cut  them  in  the  shape 
of  an  anchor,  and  stuck  a  fish-hook  through  each  one 
for  a  souvenir.    This  was  what  was  printed  on  them : 

MENU. 

An  egg  Canoe  A  Skiff  of  pickle 

A  Cheese  Raft  too.  Your  taste  to  tickle. 

Turtles  galore,  Entre*e  of  Whales 

Found  alongshore.  (A  la  sardine  tails). 

Chips  in  a  pile,  and 

A  Sandwich  Island. 

The  Brig  Watermelon  An  orange  boat  last 

With  sails  all  a-swellin'.  With  a  candy  mast. 

The  Island  of  Cake 
With  fish  from  Sweet  Lake. 


96  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

Mary  gave  the  signal  when  everything  was  ready, 
a  long  toot  on  an  old  tin  whistle  that  sounded  like  a 
fog-horn.  She  blew  it  through  the  keyhole  of  the 
parlour  door,  expecting  a  speedy  answer,  but  was  not 
prepared  for  the  sensation  her  summons  created. 
The  door  flew  open  so  suddenly  that  she  was  nearly 
taken  off  her  feet,  and  the  boys  fell  all  over  each 
other  in  their  race  for  the  table.  When  they  were 
all  seated,  Norman,  standing  up  at  the  foot  of  the 
table,  repeated  the  rhyme  which  Joyce  had  carefully 
taught  him : 

"  Heave  "no,  my  hearties,  let  these  boats 
Sail  down  the  Red  Sea  of  your  throats." 

'•They're  surely  obeying  orders,"  said  Mary, 
mournfully,  a  few  minutes  later,  when  she  hurried 
into  the  kitchen  for  another  Sandwich  Island. 
"They're  swallowing  up  those  boats  quicker'n  the 
real  Red  Sea  swallowed  up  old  Pharaoh  and  all  his 
chariots.  There'll  be  nothing  left  for  us  but  the 
rinds  and  the  broom-straws." 

"  Oh,  yes,  there  will,"  said  Joyce,  cheerfully,  open- 
ing the  pantry  door  and  showing  her  three  plates  on 
the  lower  shelf.  "There  is  our  supper.  I  put  it 
aside,  for  boys  are  like''  grasshoppers.  They'll  eat 
everything  in  sight.     I  didn't  take  time  to  put  sails 


A  FEAST  OF  SAILS.  97 

in  my  boats  or  in  mother's,  but  you've  got  one  of 
every  kind  just  like  the  boys,  even  to  a  menu-card 
with  a  fish-hook  in  it." 

There  was  a  broad  smile  on  Mary's  beaming  little 
face  as  she  surveyed  her  part  of  the  feast,  and  pop- 
ping one  of  the  fat  raisin-turtles  into  her  mouth,  she 
hurried  back  to  her  duties  as  waitress.  Joyce  fol- 
lowed to  pass  around  the  birthday  cake,  telling  each 
boy  to  blow  out  a  candle  as  he  took  a  slice,  and  to 
make  a  birthday  wish. 

Just  as  she  finished  there  was  a  click  of  the  gate« 
latch,  and  one  of  her  schoolmates  came  up  the  path. 
It  was  Grace  Link,  one  of  her  best  friends,  yet  Joyce 
wished  she  had  not  happened  in  at  that  particular 
time. 

Grace  had  a  way  of  looking  around  her  with  a 
very  superior  air.  It  may  have  been  due  to  her 
effort  to  keep  her  eye-glasses  in  position,  but  Joyce 
found  it  irritating  at  times.  The  glances  made  her 
feel  how  shabby  the  little  brown  house  must  look  in 
comparison  to  the  Links'  elegant  home,  and  she 
resented  Grace's  apparent  notice  of  the  fact. 

"  In  just  a  minute,  Grace,"  she  called,  thinking 
she  would  pass  the  cake  around  once  more,  and  leave 
the  boys  to  finish  quietly  by  themselves.  But  she 
did  not  have  a  chance  to  do  that.     With  a  whoop  as 


j8  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

of  one  voice,  each  boy  started  up,  grabbing  anothei 
slice  of  cake  in  one  hand  as  he  passed  the  plate,  and 
all  the  candy  fish  he  could  scoop  up  with  the  other, 
and  was  off  for  a  noisy  game  of  hum-bum  in  the  back 
yard. 

"  My  gracious  !  what  a  noisy  lot,"  exclaimed  Grace, 
recognising  her  own  small  brother  among  them,  and 
making  mental  note  of  a  lecture  she  meant  to  give 
him  after  awhile. 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  have  seen  how  beautiful  every- 
thing looked  when  they  sat  down,"  cried  Mary, 
noticing  Grace's  critical  glances,  as  she  surveyed  the 
wreck  they  had  made  of  the  table.  "  They've  eaten 
up  the  lighthouse  all  but  the  lantern  and  the  flag, 
and  the  watermelon  ship  was  so  pretty.  Here's 
what  the  little  boats  looked  like."  She  dashed  into 
the  pantry  for  her  own  gay  little  fleet  of  egg  and 
orange  and  pickle  boats  with  their  many-coloured 
sails. 

"  How  cunning !  "  said  Grace,  looking  admiringly 
from  the  boats  to  the  row  of  raisin-turtles.  "But 
what  a  lot  of  time  and  trouble  you  all  must  have 
taken  for  those  kids.  Do  you  think  boys  appreciate 
it  ?     I  don't." 

"  My  brothers  do,"  said  Joyce,  stoutly.  "  We 
can't  afford  to  have  ices  and  fine  things  froir   the 


A  FEAST  OF  SAILS.  99 

confectioner's,  so  we  have  to  think  up  all  sorts  of  odd 
surprises  to  take  their  place.  Mother  began  it  long 
ago  when  Jack  and  I  were  little,  and  she  gave  us  our 
first  Valentine  tea.  She  said  it  was  no  more  trouble 
to  cut  the  cookies  and  sandwiches  heart-shaped  than 
to  make  them  round,  and  it  took  very  little  time  to 
decorate  the  table  to  look  like  a  lace-paper  valentine, 
but  it  made  a  world  of  difference  in  our  enjoyment. 
Jack  and  I  have  dozens  of  bright  spots  to  remember 
because  she  made  gala  days  of  all  our  birthdays  and 
holidays,  and  it's  no  more  than  right  that  we  should 
do  it  for  Mary  and  Holland  and  the  baby,  now  that 
she  is  so  busy." 

"We  have  something  for  every  month  in  the 
year,"  chimed  in  Mary,  "counting  our  five  birth- 
days and  Washington's,  and  New  Year  and  Deco- 
ration Day  and  Christmas  and  Hallowe'en  and 
Valentine  and  Thanksgiving." 

"There  are  more  than  that,"  added  Joyce,  "for 
there's  always  the  Fourth  of  July  picnic,  you  know, 
and  the  eggs  and  rabbits  and  flowers  at  Easter." 

"Yes,  and  April  fool's  day,"  Mary  called  out 
triumphantly  after  them,  as  the  two  girls  walked 
slowly  toward  the  house.     "  That  makes  fifteen." 

"Can't  you  go  over  to  Elsie  Somers's  with  me, 
Joyce  ?  "  asked  Grace.     "  That's  what  I  stopped  by 


IOO         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

for.  It  is  only  half-past  five.  I  want  to  look  at  the 
centrepiece  she  is  embroidering  before  I  begin  mine, 
and  ask  her  about  the  stitch.  Then  I  can  begin  it 
this  evening  after  supper." 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  I  can,"  answered  Joyce, 
sitting  wearily  uown  on  the  doorstep,  and  making 
room  for  Grace  beside  her.  "  There's  all  that  mess 
to  clean  up,  and  the  boys  will  be  coming  in  soon 
when  it  begins  to  get  dark,  for  their  bonfire  stories. 
Do  you  see  that  enormous  pile  of  leaves  over  there  ? 
We're  going  to  have  a  jolly  big  bonfire  after  awhile, 
and  sit  around  it  telling  stories.  That  is  Holland's 
idea,  and  part  of  our  way  of  keeping  birthdays  is  to 
let  the  one  who  celebrates  choose  what  he  would  like 
to  do." 

"  Hum,  bum  !  Here  I  come  ! "  shouted  several 
voices  from  the  stable  rcof  and  alley  fence,  and  Jack 
repeated  it  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  as  he  dashed 
around  the  corner  of  the  house. 

"  Here,  Joyce,"  he  cried,  pitching  a  letter  toward 
her.  "  It  came  in  the  last  mail,  and  I  forgot  to  give 
it  to  you  when  I  came  back  from  the  post-office. 
Just  thought  of  it,"  and  off  he  went  again. 

"  It  is  from  toe  Little  Colonel,"  said  Joyce,  in  a 
pleased  tone.     "  Don't  you  want  to  hear  it  ? " 

Grace,  who  had  heard  so  much  about  the  happen- 


A    FEAST  OF  SAILS.  IOI 

ings  at  the  house  party  that  she  almost  felt  as  if  she 
had  been  one  of  the  guests,  promptly  settled  herself 
to  listen,  and  at  Joyce's  call,  Mrs.  Ware,  who  was 
still  stitching  beside  the  dining-room  window,  laid 
down  her  sewing,  and  came  out  to  be  part  of  the 
interested  audience. 

"  Oh,  goody !  Betty  has  written,  too,"  said  Joyce, 
as  she  unfolded  the  closely  written  pages.  "  I've  won- 
dered so  often  what  Lloyd  would  think  of  life  at  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest,  and  if  it  would  seem  the  same  to  Betty 
after  her  visit  at  Locust." 

But  there  was  nothing  of  the  Little  Colonel's 
experience,  in  either  letter.  Not  a  word  about  Aunt 
Jane's  illness,  or  'lie  game  of  barley-bright,  or  the 
trap-door  accident.  They  had  just  come  from  listen- 
ing to  Molly's  pitiful  story,  and  both  letters  were  full 
of  it.  The  story-telling  gift,  that  was  to  make  Betty 
famous  in  after  years,  showed  in  the  pathetic  little 
tale  she  wrote  Joyce,  and  so  real  did  she  make  the 
scene  that  Joyce  could  scarcely  keep  a  tremble  out 
of  her  voice  as  she  read  it  aloud. 

"  Wouldn't  you  love  to  see  the  picture  that  looks 
so  much  like  Molly's  little  lost  sister  ? "  asked  Mary, 
drawing  a  deep  breath  when  the  letter  was  done. 

"  Maybe  we've  got  it  at  home,"  said  Grace,  eagerly. 
« We've  taken  the  Harper's    Weekly  for  years,  and 


102  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

there  is  a  pile  of  them  in  the  attic.  Some  of  them 
have  been  lost  or  torn  up,  but  if  I  can  find  the  pic- 
ture I'll  bring  it  over.  What  did  Betty  say  is  the 
date  of  that  number  ? " 

"  December  twenty-fifth,  ninety-seven,"  said  Joyce, 
ief erring  to  the  letter. 

"Well,  as  you  can't  go  over  to  Elsie's  with  me 
now,  I'll  wait  till  some  other  time.  I'll  go  home  now 
and  look  for  that  picture  before  dark." 

"  Come  back  in  time  for  the  bonfire,"  said  Joyce 
cordially.     "  We  have  some  fine  stories  ready." 

"All  right,"  responded  Grace.     "I'd  love  to." 

"  In  the  meantime  we'll  clear  away  the  wreck,  and 
eat  our  supper,"  said  Joyce,  as  Grace  went  down  the 
path  and  Mary  followed  the  little  mother  into  the 
pantry.  They  had  just  hung  up  the  last  tea  towel 
and  called  Jack  to  light  the  bonfire,  when  Grace 
came  back.  She  had  the  picture  with  her,  and  they 
looked  long  and  earnestly  at  the  little  bunch  of  mis- 
ery, sobbing  in  the  corner. 

"  What  if  Dot's  father  has  brought  her  out  West !  " 
exclaimed  Mary,  impulsively,  as  she  continued  to 
gaze  at  the  forlorn  little  figure.  "What  if  she 
should  come  to  our  house  begging  some  day,  and 
we  should  find  her !  Wouldn't  it  be  grand  ?  and 
wouldn't  Molly  and  the  girls  be  glad  ? " 


THE   PICTURE    PASSED    AROUND   THE   CIRCLE,** 


A  FEAST  OF  SAILS.  103 

"It  makes  me  want  to  cry,"  said  Joyce.  "If  I 
were  rich  I'd  go  out  and  hunt  for  all  the  poor  little 
children  like  this  that  I  could  find,  and  do  something 
to  make  them  happy.  Surely  somebody  of  all  the 
thousands  who  have  seen  that  picture  must  have  been 
moved  to  pity  by  it.  No  telling  how  much  good  that 
artist  has  done,  by  making  people  see  some  of  the 
misery  in  the  world  that  they  can  help.  That  is 
the  kind  of  an  artist  I  hope  to  be  some  day." 

There  were  many  stories  told  that  evening  around 
the  birthday  bonfire,  which  Jack  kept  ablaze,  not 
only  with  leaves,  but  with  pine  cones  and  hickory 
knots.  Giants  and  ghosts  and  hobgoblins,  Indians 
and  burglars  and  wild  beasts,  took  their  turns  in  the 
thrilling  tales.  But  none  made  such  a  profound  im- 
pression as  the  story  of  Molly's  little  lost  sister,  who 
perhaps  at  that  very  moment  was  locked  in  a  dark 
closet  by  a  drunken  father,  or  sobbing  herself  to 
sleep,  bruised  and  hungry.  For  one  reason,  it  was 
real,  and  for  another,  the  picture  passed  around  the 
circle  in  the  light  of  the  glowing  bonfire  appealed  to 
every  child  heart  there. 

"  I  wish  the  Giant  Scissors  were  real,"  said  Hol- 
land, referring  to  his  favourite  tale.  "They'd  find 
her.  Joyce,  what  would  you  have  to  say  to  them  to 
make  them  go  in  search  ? " 


104         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

11  Giant  Scissors,  rise  in  power  ! 
Find  little  Dot  this  very  hour! 

And  then  they  would  go  rushing  away  over  moun- 
tains and  dales,"  continued  Joyce,  who  knew  how 
greatly  Holland  enjoyed  these  variations  of  his 
favourite  story,  "  Through  streets  and  through  alleys 
they'd  go,  through  mansions  and  tenements  until 
they  found  her  and  brought  her  back  to  Molly. 
Then,  hand  in  hand,  the  big  sister  and  the  little  one 
would  follow  the  Scissors  back  to  the  home  of  Ethel- 
red,  because,  like  him,  the  only  kingdom  that  they 
crave  is  the  kingdom  of  a  loving  heart  and  a  happy 
fireside.  There  would  be  feasting  and  merrymaking 
for  seventy  days  and  seventy  nights,  with  the  Scis- 
sors keeping  guard  at  the  portal  of  Ethelred,  so  that 
only  those  who  belong  to  the  kingdom  of  loving 
hearts  and  gentle  hands  might  enter  in." 

Strangely  moved  by  the  story,  little  Norman  got 
up  from  his  seat  and  ran  to  Joyce,  burying  his  head 
in  her  lap,  "  I  hope  I'll  never  be  losted  from  my  big 
sister,"  he  cried,  his  voice  quivering,  despite  the  fact 
that  he  no  longer  wore  kilts. 

"  Me,  too,"  said  Holland,  sliding  along  the  bench  a 
little  closer  to  her.  "  Fellows  that  haven't  got  any 
sisters  to  get  up  birthday  parties  for  'em  and  every- 
thing don't  know  what  they  miss." 


A  FEAST  OF  SAILS.  IO5 

Joyce  looked  over  at  Grace  with  a  smile  that 
seemed  to  say,  "  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  These  kids, 
as  you  call  them,  do  appreciate  what  their  sisters  do 
for  them." 

Long  after  the  bonfire  was  out  and  the  birthday 
guests  had  departed,  Holland  turned  restlessly  on 
his  pillow.  The  many  boats  he  had  eaten  may  have 
had  something  to  do  with  his  restlessness,  but  the 
thought  of  the  lonely  little  child  for  whom  Molly 
was  grieving  was  still  in  his  mind,  when  his  mother 
looked  in  an  hour  later,  to  see  if  all  was  well  for  the 
night. 

"  I'm  thankful  for  the  party,"  he  announced  unex- 
pectedly, as  she  bent  over  him,  "and  I'm  thankful 
for  most  everything  I  can  think  of,  but  I'm  most 
thankfullest  because  we  aren't  any  of  us  in  this  house 
lost  from  each  other." 

"  Please  God  you  may  say  that  on  all  your  birth- 
days," whispered  his  mother,  kissing  him.  Then  she 
went  away  with  the  light,  and  silence  reigned  in  the 
little  brown  house. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

EUGENIA   JOINS    THE    SEARCH. 

City  towers  rise  now  in  the  steam  of  the  bubbling 
caldron,  smoky  chimney  tops  and  high  roof  gardens. 
The  clang  and  roar  and  traffic  of  crowded  streets 
jangle  through  the  silver  chiming  of  the  magic 
bells. 

Eugenia  Forbes,  sitting  near  an  open  window  in 
one  of  the  handsomest  apartments  of  the  Waldorf- 
Astoria,  heard  none  of  the  city's  noise,  saw  nothing 
of  the  panorama  in  the  restless  streets  below.  The 
bell-boy  had  just  brought  her  a  letter,  and  she  was 
reading  it  aloud  to  her  maid.  Patient  old  Eliot  had 
taken  such  a  deep  interest  in  all  that  belonged  to 
Lloydsboro  Valley  since  their  journey  to  Locust, 
that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  confide  in  her.  Even  if 
Eugenia  had  had  any  one  else  to  confide  in,  she 
could  have  found  no  one  who  had  her  interest  at 
heart  more  than  this  sensible,  elderly  woman,  who 
had  taken  care  of  her  for  so  many  years. 

1 06 


EUGENIA  JOINS   THE  SEARCH.  10? 

Eugenia  had  not  gone  back  to  boarding-school  as 
a  regular  pupil.  It  had  scarcely  seemed  worth 
while,  since  she  was  to  leave  so  soon  for  her  trip 
abroad.  But  Riverdale  Seminary,  being  in  the 
suburbs,  was  not  such  a  great  distance  from  the 
hotel  but  that  she  could  go  out  every  morning  for 
her  French  lesson.  Knowing  that  she  would  soon 
have  practical  use  for  the  language,  she  was  doing 
extra  work  in  French,  and  taking  a  greater  interest 
in  it  than  she  had  ever  shown  before  in  any  study. 

If  the  three  girls  who  had  been  her  devoted 
friends  the  year  before  had  come  back  to  Riverdale 
at  the  beginning  of  the  term,  she  would  have  in- 
sisted on  taking  her  place  in  the  boarding-hall  as 
a  regular  pupil,  in  order  to  be  with  them  as  long 
as  possible.  But  the  summer  vacation  had  brought 
many  changes.  The  day  that  Eugenia  reached  New 
York  on  her  return  from  the  house  party,  a  letter 
had  come  saying  that  Molly  Blythe  would  never  be 
back  at  the  school.  There  had  been  an  accident  on 
the  mountain  where  she  had  gone  to  spend  the 
summer  with  her  family.  A  runaway  team,  a  wild 
dash  down  the  mountainside,  and  the  merry  picnic 
had  ended  in  a  sad  accident.  She  was  lying  now  in 
a  long,  serious  illness  that  would  either  leave  her  a 
cripple  for  life,  or  take  her  away  in  a  little  while 


108  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

from  the  devoted  family  that  was  nearly  distracted 
by  the  thought  of  losing  her. 

Kell,  still  in  the  Bermudas,  was  not  coming  back 
to  school  until  after  Christmas,  and  Fay,  while  she 
still  called  Eugenia  her  dearest,  divided  her  affec- 
tions with  a  blonde  girl  from  Ohio.  They  had 
passed  the  summer  on  the  same  island  in  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  Eugenia  felt  that  her  place  was  taken 
by  this  stranger. 

With  Molly  and  Kell  away,  and  Fay  so  changed, 
Eugenia  would  have  lost  all  interest  in  the  school, 
had  it  not  been  that  she  wanted  to  acquire  as  much 
French  as  possible  before  going  abroad.  In  most 
things  she  was  not  so  overbearing  and  thoughtless 
in  her  treatment  of  poor  old  Eliot,  since  her  visit  to 
Locust.  The  ring  she  wore  was  a  daily  reminder 
of  the  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart  that  she  was  trying 
to  leave  behind  her  in  everybody's  memory.  But 
Eliot  still  found  her  patience  sorely  tried  at  times. 
Missing  the  girls  at  school,  Eugenia  was  lonely,  and 
wished  a  hundred  times  a  day  that  she  were  back 
at  the  house  party.  Sometimes  she  grumbled  and 
moped  until  the  atmosphere  around  her  was  as 
gloomy  and  depressing  as  a  London  fog. 

"  Nothing  to  do  is  a  dreadful  complaint,"  Eliot 
had  said  a  few  moments  before  the  boy  brought  up 


EUGENIA  JOINS   THE  SEARCH.  109 

the  letter.  "  You  break  one  of  the  commandments 
every  day  you  live,  Miss  Eugenia.'' 

"  How  can  you  say  such  a  thing  ? A  demanded 
Eugenia,  indignantly.  "  I  don't  lie  >or  steal  or 
murder,  or  do  any  of  those  things  it  says  not 
to." 

"It  isn't  any  of  the  ethou  shalt  nots,'  "  said  Eliot, 
determined  to  speak  her  mind,  now  that  she  had 
started.  "  It  is  a  shalt.  '  Six  days  shalt  thou  labour 
and  do  all  thy  work.'  It  is  plain  talk,  Miss  Eugenia, 
but  there's  nobody  else  to  say  it,  and  I  feel  that  it 
ought  to  be  said.  More  than  three-fourths  of  your 
life  you  are  miserable  because  you  are  doing  nothing 
but  grumbling  and  trying  to  kill  time.  You  needn't 
be  unhappy  at  all  if  you'd  look  around  you  and  see 
some  of  the  world's  work  lying  around,  waiting  for 
just  such  hands  as  yours  to  take  hold  of  it." 

"  Oh,  don't  be  so  preachy ! "  pouted  Eugenia, 
impatiently. 

It  was  just  at  this  point  that  the  Little  Colonel's 
letter  was  brought  in,  and  the  sight  of  the  familiar 
handwriting  made  Eugenia's  face  brighten  as  if  by 
magic. 

"  One  from  Betty,  too,"  she  cried,  as  a  second 
closely  written  sheet  dropped  into  her  lap.  Then 
forgetting  her  impatience  with  Eliot's  preaching,  she 


110         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

oegan  reading  aloud  the  news  from  the  Cuckoo's 
Nest.  It  was  the  same  pathetic  little  tale  that  had 
touched  the  hearts  of  the  birthday  banqueters,  cir- 
cled around  the  glowing  bonfire,  and  it  moved 
Eugenia  to  pity,  just  as  it  had  moved  all  who  lis- 
tened at  the  little  brown  house. 

Eugenia  folded  up  the  letters,  and  slipped  them 
back  into  the  envelope.  "  If  I  were  down  there  at 
the  Cuckoo's  Nest  with  Lloyd  and  Betty,  there 
would  be  something  for  me  to  do.  I'd  find  Molly's 
sister  even  if  I  had  to  spend  all  my  year's  allowance 
to  employ  a  detective.  Poor,  lonesome  little  thing ! 
I've  taken  a  fancy  to  that  girl.  Maybe  it  is  on 
account  of  her  name  being  the  same  as  Molly 
Blythe's.  Even  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I 
would  be  glad  to  help  her." 

«'  You  don't  have  to  go  travelling  to  find  lonely 
people,  Miss  Eugenia,"  said  Eliot,  who  seemed  to 
have  much  on  her  mind  that  afternoon,  and  a  deter- 
mination to  share  it  with  Eugenia.  "  All  the  aching 
tiearts  don't  belong  to  little  orphans,  and  some  of  the 
loneliest  people  in  the  world  touch  elbows  with  you 
i^very  day." 

"  Who,  for  instance  ? "  demanded  Eugenia,  unbe- 
lievingly. <  I  never  saw  them."  Then,  without 
witing  for  an  answer,  she  sprang  up  and  glanced 


EUGENIA  JOINS    THE  SEARCH.  1 1 1 

Jito  the  mirror,  and  gave  a  few  hasty  touches  to  her 
hair  and  belt.  "Bring  me  my  hat,  Eliot,  and  get 
into  your  bonnet.  I'm  going  out  to  Riverdale.  I'm 
sure  I  can  find  the  picture  they  wrote  about  some- 
where in  the  seminary  library.  They  always  save 
the  old  files  of  illustrated  papers.  I'm  wild  to  sea 
what  that  picture  looks  like  that  Molly  made  such 
a  fuss  about,  and  it  will  give  me  some  amusement  for 
the  afternoon." 

Little  Miss  Gray,  the  librarian  at  the  Riverdale 
Seminary,  looked  up  in  surprise  when  Eugenia  came 
rustling  into  the  reading-room  an  hour  later.  It 
was  the  first  time  she  had  been  in  that  term.  It  was 
a  half-holiday,  and  up  to  that  time  no  one  had  come 
in  all  the  afternoon.  Sitting  by  the  window,  cata- 
loguing new  books,  Miss  Gray  had  looked  out  from 
time  to  time,  wishing  that  she,  too,  could  have  a  half  • 
holiday,  and  that  she  could  change  places  with  some 
of  the  care-free  schoolgirls  outside  on  the  campus. 
She  could  see  them  strolling  along  the  shady  ave- 
nues by  twos  and  threes  and  fours,  never  one  alone. 
The  sight  made  her  feel  even  more  lonely  than 
usual.  She  looked  up  eagerly  at  the  sound  of  the 
approaching  footsteps,  glad  of  any  companionship, 
but  shrank  back  timidly  when  she  saw  who  was 
rustling  toward  her.     Eugenia  had  always  had  such  a 


112  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

supercilious  air  in  asking  for  a  book,  that  she  dis« 
liked  to  wait  on  her. 

But  to-day  Eugenia  came  forward  so  intent  on  her 
errand  that  she  forgot  to  be  haughty,  and  asked  for 
the  old  volume  of  Harper  s  Weeklies  as  eagerly  as  a 
little  girl  asking  for  a  picture-book. 

"That's  the  date,"  she  said,  handing  Miss  Gray  a 
slip  of  paper.  "  Oh,  I  do  hope  you  have  it.  You  see 
the  girls  wrote  such  an  interesting  account  of  the 
little  waif  that  I'm  anxious  to  have  the  picture.  It 
will  be  so  nice  to  know  that  I'm  looking  at  the  same 
thing  they  saw  in  Molly's  room. 

"What  a  little  morsel  of  misery  !  "  she  exclaimed, 
as  Miss  Gray  opened  the  volume.  "  Isn't  it  pitiful  ? 
I  never  would  have  imagined  that  a  real  child  could 
be  so  forlorn  and  miserable  as  this  if  the  girls  hadn't 
written  about  it.  I  thought  such  tales  were  made  up 
by  newspapers  and  magazines,  just  for  something  to 
write  about." 

Before  she  realised  that  she  was  taking  the  little 
librarian  into  her  confidence,  she  was  pouring  out  the 
story  of  Molly  and  Dot  as  if  she  were  talking  to  one 
of  the  girls.  When  she  finished  Miss  Gray  turned 
ner  head  away,  but  Eugenia  saw  two  tears  splash 
down  on  the  table. 

"  Excuse  my  taking  it  so  much  to  heart,"  said 


EUGENIA  JOINS    THE  SEARCH.  113 

Miss  Gray,  with  a  smile,  as  she  wiped  away  the  tell- 
tale drops,  "  but  it  seems  so  real  to  me  that  I  couldn't 
help  it.  I'm  like  the  little  lost  sister,  you  know. 
Not  ragged  and  torn  and  poverty-stricken  like  the 
waif  in  the  picture,  for  this  position  gives  me  all 
the  comforts  of  life,  but  I'm  just  as  much  alone  in 
the  world  as  she.  When  I  am  busy  I  never  think 
of  it ;  but  sometimes  the  thought  sweeps  over  me 
like  a  great  overwhelming  wave,  —  I'm  all  alone  in 
this  big,  strange  city,  only  a  drop  in  the  bucket,  with 
nobody  to  care  whether  I  fare  ill  or  well." 

Eugenia  did  not  know  how  to  answer.  She  thought 
this  must  be  one  of  the  people  whom  Eliot  meant, 
who  touched  elbows  with  her  every  day.  Stirred 
by  a  great  pity  and  a  desire  to  comfort  this  gentle- 
faced  little  woman  whose  big  blue  eyes  were  as 
appealing  as  a  baby's,  and  whose  voice  was  as 
mournful  as  a  dove's,  Eugenia  stood  a  moment  in 
awkward  silence.  She  wished  that  Betty  could  be 
there  to  say  the  right  thing  at  the  right  time,  as 
she  always  did,  or  that,  better  still,  she  had  Betty's 
way  of  comforting  people.  Then  a  thought  came 
to  her  like  an  inspiration. 

"  Oh,  Miss  Gray !  Maybe  if  you  have  so  much 
sympathy  for  the  little  lost  child,  you'd  take  an 
interest  in   helping   me   find   her.      Nobody  knows 


114  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

where  her  father  took  her.  He  sent  word  that  he 
had  left  Louisville,  and  there  is  no  telling  where 
he  has  drifted.  They  are  as  likely  to  be  here  in 
New  York  as  anywhere.  Maybe  if  we  went  around 
to  all  the  orphanages  and  hospitals  and  free  kinder- 
gartens we  could  find  some  trace  of  her.  Papa 
won't  let  me  go  out  in  the  city  alone,  and  Eliot  is 
such  a  stick  about  going  to  strange  places.  She 
always  loses  her  head  and  gets  flustered  and  makes 
a  mess  of  everything.     Oh,  would  yon  mind  going  ? " 

"  Any  day  after  four  o'clock,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Gray  eagerly,  "  and  on  Wednesdays  the  library  closes 
at  one." 

"We'll  begin  next  Wednesday,"  said  Eugenia. 
"  Come  and  take  lunch  with  me  at  the  Waldorf, 
and  we  can  get  an  early  start.  Oh,  I'll  be  so  much 
obliged  to  you." 

Before  Miss  Gray  could  say  anything  more,  she 
had  rustled  out  into  the  hall  where  Eliot  sat  waiting. 
The  little  librarian  was  left  to  clasp  her  hands  in 
silent  delight  over  the  thought  of  such  a  lark  as 
a  lunch  at  the  Waldorf  and  an  afternoon's  outing 
with  the  wealthiest  and  most  exclusive  girl  in  the 
Seminary. 

"We  are  on  the  track,  too,"  wrote  Eugenia  to 
Betty,   some   time   after.       "  Miss    Gray  and   I    are 


EUGENIA  JOINS    THE   SEARCH.  1 1 5 

playing  private  detective  on  the  trail  of  little  Dot. 
We  haven't  found  any  trace  of  her  yet,  but  we're 
haunting  all  sorts  of  places  where  we  think  there 
is  any  prospect  of  coming  across  her.  We  have 
found  plenty  of  other  children  who  need  help,  and 
papa  gave  me  a  big  check  last  night  to  use  for  a 
little  cripple  that  we  became  interested  in.  Miss 
Gray  is  lovely.  We've  been  to  several  things  to- 
gether, a  matinee  and  a  concert  and  an  art  exhibi- 
tion. I  showed  her  my  ring  the  day  she  was  here 
to  lunch,  and  told  her  all  about  the  time  when  you 
were  blind  and  what  you  said  to  me  about  the  Road 
of  the  Loving  Heart.  And  she  said,  '  Tell  that  blessed 
little  Betty  that  she  has  given  me  an  inspiration  for 
life.  Instead  of  thinking  of  my  own  loneliness  I 
shall  begin  to  think  more  of  other  people's  and  to 
leave  a  memory  behind  me,  too,  as  enduring  as  Tusi- 
tala's.'  " 

One  other  person  took  the  trouble  to  hunt  up  an 
old  file  of  papers,  and  find  the  picture  like  the  one 
pinned  on  Molly's  wall.  That  was  Mrs.  Sherman. 
The  morning  that  Lloyd's  letter  came,  she  happened 
to  be  passing  the  city  library,  and  went  in  to  ask  for 
it.  The  sight  of  the  poor  little  creature  haunted 
her  all   morning,   and   remembering   Molly's   sullen 


Il6  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

face,  she  longed  to  do  something  to  give  it  a  happier 
expression.  That  afternoon  she  went  down  to  an 
art  store  to  choose  a  picture  for  Lloyd  to  hang  in 
Molly's  room  beside  the  pitiful  little  newspaper 
clipping.  It  was  a  picture  of  the  Good  Shepherd, 
carrying  in  his  arms  a  little  stray  lamb  that  had 
wandered  away  from  the  shelter  of  the  sheepfold. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

LEFT    BEHIND. 

Every  evening  for  a  week,  at  the  Cuckoo's  Nest, 
a  fire  had  been  kindled  on  the  sitting-room  hearth, 
for  the  autumn  rains  made  the  nights  chilly.  Here 
until  half-past  eight  the  boys  could  play  any  game 
they  chose.  Hop-scotch  left  chalk  marks  on  the 
new  rag  carpet,  and  tag  upset  the  furniture  as  if 
a  cyclone  had  swept  through  the  room,  but  never  a 
word  of  reproof  interrupted  their  sport,  no  matter 
how  boisterous.  Lloyd  wondered  sometimes  that 
the  roof  did  not  tumble  in  around  their  ears  when 
she  and  Betty  and  Molly  joined  the  five  boys  in  a 
game  of  blind  man's  buff. 

"  It  is  nice  to  have  old  furniture  and  stout  rag 
carpets,"  she  confided  to  Betty,  in  a  breathless  pause 
of  the  game.  "  We  couldn't  romp  in  the  house  this 
way  at  Locust.  I  like  the  place  now,  it  doesn't 
seem  a  bit  queah.  I  wouldn't  care  if  mothah  would 
write  for  us  to  stay  heah  anothah  week." 

But  the  summons  to  leave  came  next  day.  A 
117 


Il8  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

howl  went  up  from  all  the  little  Appletons  as  the 
letter  was  read  aloud.  It  had  been  the  most  exciting 
week  of  their  lives,  for  Betty  and  the  Little  Colonel 
were  on  the  friendliest  terms  with  Molly,  and  the 
three  together  introduced  new  games  into  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest  with  an  enthusiasm  that  made 
the  evening  playtime  a  delight.  The  charades  and 
tableaux  and  private  theatricals  were  something  to 
enjoy  with  keen  zest  at  the  moment,  and  dream  of 
for  weeks  afterward. 

"We  will  have  one  more  jolly  old  evening  to- 
gether, anyhow,"  said  Bradley.  "  I'll  go  out  and 
get  the  firewood  now."  But  when  supper  was  over, 
and  the  two  trunks  stood  in  a  corner,  packed  and 
strapped  for  their  morrow's  journey,  nobody  seemed 
in  a  mood  for  romping.  The  boys  squatted  on  the 
hearth-rug  as  solemnly  as  Indians  around  a  council- 
fire.  As  the  shadows  danced  on  the  ceiling,  Betty 
reached  down  from  the  low  stool  where  she  sat,  to 
stroke  the  puppy  stretched  across  her  feet. 

"What  do  you  all  want  me  to  bring  you  from 
Europe  ? "  she  asked,  playfully.  "  Pretend  that  I 
could  bring  you  anything  you  wanted.  Only  re- 
member the  story  of  Beauty  and  the  Beast,  and 
don't  anybody  ask  for  a  white  rose.  Molly,  you  are 
the  oldest,  you  begin,  and  choose  first." 


LEFT  BEHIND.  II9 

Molly's  gray  eyes  gazed  wistfully  into  the  embers. 
''  Oh,  you  know  that  there  is  only  one  thing  in  the 
whole  world  that  I  ever  wish  for,  and  that  is  Dot. 
But  of  course  she  isn't  in  Europe." 

"  You  don't  know,"  interrupted  Lloyd.  "  I've 
read  of  stranger  things  than  that.  I  have  a  story  at 
home  about  a  boy  that  was  kidnapped,  and  yeahs 
aftah  he  was  found  strollin'  around  in  a  foreign 
country  with  a  band  of  gypsies.  They'd  taken  him 
across  the  ocean  with  them." 

"And  there's  a  piece  in  my  Fourth  Reader," 
added  Scott,  eagerly,  "  about  a  child  that  was  stolen 
by  Indians  when  she  was  so  young  that  she  soon 
forgot  how  to  talk  English.  She  grew  up  to  look 
just  like  a  squaw.  When  the  tribe  was  captured, 
her  own  mother  did  not  recognise  her.  Her  mother 
was  an  old  white-haired  woman  then.  But  there 
was  a  queer  kind  of  scar  that  had  always  been  on 
the  girl's  arm,  and  when  her  mother  saw  that  she 
knew  it  was  her  daughter,  and  she  began  to  sing  a 
song  that  she  used  to  sing  when  she  rocked  her 
children  to  sleep.  And  the  girl  remembered  it,  and 
it  seemed  to  bring  back  all  the  other  things  she  had 
forgotten,  and  she  ran  up  to  her  mother  and  put 
her  arms  around  her," 

"  Dot  has  a  scar,"  said  Molly.     "  I  could  tell  her 


120         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

anywhere  by  that  mark  over  her  eye  where  the  stick 
of  wood  hit  her." 

"  S'pose  Betty  should  find  her  somewhere  abroad," 
said  Lloyd,  her  eyes  shining  like  stars  at  the  thought. 
"  S'pose  they'd  be  driving  along  in  Paris,  and  a  little 
flower  girl  would  come  up  with  a  basket  of  violets, 
and  Eugenia  would  say,  '  Oh,  papa,  please  stop  the 
carriage.  I  want  some  of  those  violets.'  And  while 
they  were  buying  them  Betty  would  talk  to  the 
little  flower  girl,  and  find  out  that  she  was  Dot.  Of 
co'se  Cousin  Carl  would  take  her  right  into  the  car- 
riage, and  they'd  whirl  away  to  the  hotel,  and  aftah 
they'd  bought  her  a  lot  of  pretty  clothes  they'd  take 
her  travellin'  with  them,  and  finally  bring  her  back 
to  America  just  as  if  it  were  in  a  fairy  tale." 

"  Or  Eugenia  might  find  her  in  New  York  before 
we  leave,"  suggested  Betty.  "  You  know  she  wrote 
that  she  is  hunting,  and  that  her  father  promised  to 
ask  the  police  force  to  look,  too." 

"  Joyce  is  lookin',  too,"  said  Lloyd.  "  Dot  is  as 
apt  to  wandah  west  as  east.  There's  so  many  peo- 
ple interested  now  in  tryin'  to  find  her.  I  do 
wondah  who'll  be  the  one." 

"  Godmother,  most  likely,"  said  Betty.  "  Wouldn't 
it  be  lovely  if  she  should  ?  Suppose  she'd  find  her 
about  Christmas  time,  and  she'd  send  word  to  Molly 


LEFT  BEHIND.  121 

to  hang  up  two  stockings,  because  she  was  going  to 
send  her  a  present  so  big  that  it  wouldn't  go  into 
one.  And  Christmas  morning  Molly  would  run  down 
here  to  the  chimney  where  she'd  hung  them,  and 
there  would  be  Dot  standing  in  her  stockings." 

"  Oh,  don't !  "  said  Molly,  imploringly,  with  a  little 
choke  in  her  voice.  "  You  make  it  seem  so  real  that  I 
can't  bear  to  talk  about  it  any  more." 

There  was  silence  in  the  room  for  a  little  space, 
and  only  the  shadows  moved  as  the  flames  leaped  and 
flickered  on  the  old  hearthstone.  Then  Lloyd,  lean- 
ing  forward,  took  hold  of  one  of  Betty's  long  brown 
curls. 

"Tell  us  a  story,  Tusitala,"  she  said,  coaxingly. 
"  It  will  be  the  last  one  before  we  go  away." 

"  Why  did  you  call  her  that  ? "  asked  the  inquisi- 
tive Bradley. 

"  Tusitala  ?  Oh,  that  means  tale-teller,  you  know. 
That  is  the  name  the  Samoan  chiefs  gave  to  Robert 
Louis  Stevenson  when  he  went  to  live  on  their 
island,  and  that  is  the  name  we  gave  Betty  when  we 
thought  she  was  going  blind,  the  time  we  all  had  the 
measles." 

"  Why  ? "  asked  Bradley  again. 

"  Because  mothah  said  Betty  writes  stories  so  well 
now,  that  she  will  be  known  as  the  children's  Tusi- 


122  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

tala  some  day.  Besides,  she  told  us  the  tale  about 
the  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart,  and  Eugenia  gave 
us  each  a  ring  to  help  us  remembah  it.  See  ?  They 
are  just  alike." 

She  laid  her  hand  against  Betty's  a  moment,  to 
compare  the  little  twists  of  gold,  each  tied  in  a  lover's 
knot,  and  then  slipped  hers  off,  passing  it  around  the 
circle,  that  each  might  see  the  name  "Tusitala" 
engraved  inside.  "Tell  them  about  it,  Betty,"  she 
insisted. 

"  There  isn't  much  to  tell,"  began  Betty,  clasping 
her  hands  around  her  knees.  "  Only  Stevenson  was 
so  good  to  those  poor  old  Samoan  chiefs,  visiting 
them  when  they  were  put  in  prison,  and  treating  them 
so  kindly  in  every  way  he  could  think  of,  that  they 
called  him  their  white  brother.  They  wanted  to  do 
something  to  show  their  appreciation,  for  they  said, 
'  The  day  is  not  longer  than  his  kindness.'  They  had 
heard  him  wish  for  a  road  across  part  of  the  island, 
so  they  banded  together  and  began  to  dig.  It  was 
hard  work,  for  the  heat  was  terrible  there  in  the 
tropics,  and  they  were  weak  from  being  in  prison  so 
long;  but  they  worked  for  days  and  days,  almost 
fainting.  When  it  was  done,  they  set  up  an  inscrip- 
tion over  it,  calling  it  the  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart 
that  they  had  built  to  last  for  ever." 


LEFT  BEHIND.  1 23 

Betty  paused  a  moment,  twisting  the  little  ring  on 
her  finger,  and  then  repeated  what  she  had  confessed 
to  Joyce,  the  afternoon  that  she  thought  she  must  be 
blind  all  the  rest  of  her  life. 

"  I  wanted  to  build  a  road  like  that  for  godmother. 
Of  course  I  couldn't  dig  one  like  those  chiefs  did,  and 
she  wouldn't  have  wanted  it  even  if  I  could ;  but  I 
thought  maybe  I  could  leave  a  memory  behind  me  of 
my  visit,  that  would  be  like  a  smooth  white  road. 
You  know,  remembering  things  is  like  looking  back 
over  a  road.  The  unpleasant  things  that  have  hap- 
pened are  like  the  rocks  we  stumble  over.  But  if 
we  have  done  nothing  unpleasant  to  remember,  then 
we  can  look  back  and  see  it  stretched  out  behind  us, 
all  smooth  and  white  and  shining. 

"  So,  from  the  very  first  day  of  my  visit,  I  tried  to 
leave  nothing  behind  me  for  her  memory  to  stumble 
over.  Not  a  frown  or  a  cross  word  or  a  single  dis- 
obedience. Nothing  in  all  my  life  ever  made  me  so 
happy  as  what  she  said  to  me  the  day  I  left  Locust. 
I  knew  then  that  I  had  succeeded." 

There  was  nothing  preachy  about  Betty.  She  did 
not  apply  the  story  to  her  hearers,  even  in  the  tone 
in  which  she  told  it ;  but  the  silence  that  followed 
was  uncomfortable  to  one  squirming  boy  at  least. 

Bradley  remembered  the  fishing-worms,  and  was  in 


124  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

haste  to  change  the  subject.  "  Say,  Betty,  what  are 
you  going  to  do  with  Bob  when  you  go  away  ? " 

"  I  have  been  trying  for  some  time  to  make  up  my 
mind,"  said  Betty.  "  First  I  thought  I  would  take 
him  back  to  Locust,  and  let  him  stay  with  his 
brothers ;  but  I'll  be  away  so  long  that  he  won't 
know  me  when  I  come  back,  and  this  afternoon  I 
decided  to  give  him  to  Davy." 

"Oh,  really,  truly,  Betty?"  cried  the  child,  tum- 
bling forward  at  her  feet  in  a  quiver  of  delight,  for 
he  had  loved  the  frolicsome  puppy  at  first  sight,  and 
had  kept  it  with  him  every  waking  moment  since  it 
came. 

"  Really,  truly,"  she  repeated,  picking  up  the 
puppy  and  dropping  him  into  Davy's  arms.  "  There, 
sir !  Go  to  your  new  master,  you  rascal,  and  remem- 
ber that  your  name  isn't  Bob  Lewis  any  longer.  It 
is  Bob  Appleton  now." 

Davy  squeezed  the  fat  puppy  so  close  in  his  arms 
that  his  beaming  face  was  nearly  hidden  by  the  big 
bow  of  yellow  ribbon.  He  had  never  been  so  happy 
in  all  his  life.  The  road  that  Betty  had  left  in  her 
godmother's  memory  was  not  the  only  one  that 
stretched  out  white  and  shining  behind  her.  No  mat- 
ter how  long  she  might  be  gone  from  the  Cuckoo's 
Nest,  or  how  the  years  might  pile  up  between  them, 


LEFT  BEHIND.  125 

in  Davy's  heart  she  would  be  the  dearest  memory  of 
his  childhood.  With  Bob  she  had  given  him  its 
crowning  joy,  a  reminder  of  herself,  to  live  and 
move  and  frisk  beside  him ;  to  keep  pace  with  every 
step,  and  to  bring  her  to  his  loving  remembrance 
with  every  wag  of  its  stumpy  tail,  and  every  glance 
of  its  faithful  brown  eyes. 

Again  it  was  early  morning,  with  dew  on  the 
meadows,  as  it  had  been  when  Betty  first  ventured 
out  into  the  world.  Now  she  fared  forth  on  another 
and  a  longer  pilgrimage,  but  this  time  there  was  no 
lonely  sinking  of  the  heart  when  she  waved  good- 
bye to  the  group  on  the  porch.  She  was  sorry  to 
leave  them,  but  the  Little  Colonel  was  with  her,  her 
godmother  was  to  meet  them  at  the  junction,  and 
just  beyond  was  the  wonderland  of  the  old  world, 
through  which  Cousin  Carl  was  to  be  her  guide. 

It  was  one  o  clock  when  they  reached  Louisville. 
The  afternoon  was  taken  up  in  shopping,  for  there 
were  many  things  that  Betty  needed  for  her  voyage. 
But  by  six  o'clock  the  new  steamer  trunk,  with  all 
the  bundles,  was  aboard  the  suburban  train,  and 
Betty,  with  the  check  in  her  purse,  followed  her 
godmother  and  Lloyd  into  the  car  for  Lloydsboro 
Valley. 

Then  there  were  three  more  nights  to  go  to  sleep 


126  THE  LITTLE    COLOAEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

in  the  white  and  gold  room  of  the  House  Beautiful ; 
three  more  days  to  wander  up  and  down  the  long 
avenue  under  the  locusts,  arm  in  arm  with  the  Little 
Colonel,  or  to  go  riding  through  the  valley  with  her 
on  Lad  and  Tarbaby ;  three  more  evenings  to  sit 
in  the  long  drawing-room  where  the  light  fell  softly 
from  all  the  wax  tapers  in  the  silver  candelabra,  — 
and  Lloyd,  standing  below  the  portrait  of  the  white- 
gowned  girl  with  the  June  rose  in  her  hair,  played 
the  harp  that  had  belonged  to  her  beautiful  grand- 
mother Amanthis.  Then  it  was  time  to  start  to 
New  York,  for  Mr.  Sherman's  business  called  him 
there,  and  Betty  was  to  go  in  his  care. 

It  seemed  to  the  Little  Colonel  that  the  week 
which  followed,  that  last  week  of  September,  was 
the  longest  one  she  had  ever  known.  Since  the 
beginning  of  the  house  party  she  had  not  been  with- 
out a  companion.  Now  as  she  wandered  aimlessly 
around  from  one  old  haunt  to  another,  not  knowing 
how  to  pass  the  time,  it  seemed  she  had  forgotten 
how  to  amuse  herself.  She  was  waiting  until  the 
first  of  October  to  start  to  school. 

At  last  Betty's  steamer  letter  came,  and  she 
dashed  home  from  the  post-office  as  fast  as  Tarbaby 
could  run,  to  share  it  with  her  mother.  The  letter 
was  dated  "  On  board  the  Majestic,"  and  ran : 


LEFT  BEHIND.  1 27 

"Deark.t  Godmother  and  Lloyd:  —  Everybody  is  in 
the  cabin  writing  letters  to  send  back  by  the  pilot-boat,  so  here 
is  a  little  note  to  tell  you  that  we  are  starting  off  in  fine  style. 
The  band  is  playing,  the  sun  is  shining,  and  the  harbour  is 
smooth  as  glass.  I  have  been  looking  over  the  deck  railing, 
and  the  deep  green  water,  rocking  the  little  boats  out  in  the 
harbour,  makes  me  think  of  the  White  Seal's  lullaby  that  god- 
mother sang  to  us  when  we  had  the  measles. 

"  '  The  storm  shall  not  wake  thee, 
Nor  shark  overtake  thee, 
Asleep  in  the  arms  of  the  slow-swinging  seas.' 

"  I  know  that  I  shall  think  of  that  many  times  during  the 
passage,  and  am  sure  we  are  going  to  enjoy  every  minute  of 
it.  Eugenia  sends  lots  of  love  to  you  both.  She  is  writing 
to  Joyce.  The  next  time  we  write  it  will  be  from  Southamp- 
ton. If  you  could  only  be  with  us  I  should  be  perfectly 
happy.  Good-bye,  till  you  hear  from  me  from  the  other  side. 
"  Lovingly,  Betty." 

There  was  a  hasty  postscript  scribbled  across  the 
end.  "Be  sure  you  let  me  know  the  minute  you 
hear  anything  from  Dot.  If  anybody  finds  her, 
Cousin  Carl  says  cable  the  word  'found,'  and  we 
will  know  what  you  mean." 

For  a  few  minutes  after  the  reading  of  the  letter, 
the  Little  Colonel  stood  by  the  window,  looking  out 
without  a  word.     Then  she  began  : 

"  I  wish  I'd  nevah  had  a  house  party.  I  wish  I'd 
nevah  known  Joyce  or  Eugenia  or  Betty.     I  wish 


128  THE   LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

I'd  nevah  laid  eyes  on  any  of  them,  or  been  to 
the  Cuckoo's  Nest,  or  —  or  notkiri  /" 

"  What  is  the  trouble  now,  Lloyd  ? "  asked  her 
mother,  wonderingly. 

"Then  I  wouldn't  be  so  lonesome  now  that  every, 
thing  is  ovah.  I  despise  that  '  left  behind '  feelin1 
moah  than  anything  I  know.  It  makes  me  so 
misatible!  They've  all  gone  away  and  left  me 
now,  and  I'll  nevah  be  as  happy  again  as  I've  been 
this  summah.     I'm  suah  of  it !  " 

"  '  Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer  left  blooming  alone. 
All  her  lovely  companions  are  faded  and  gone,' " 

sang  Mrs.  Sherman,  gaily,  as  she  came  and  put  an 
arm  around  Lloyd's  drooping  shoulders.  "  Every 
summer  brings  its  own  roses,  little  daughter.  When 
the  old  friends  go,  look  around  for  new  ones,  and 
you'll  always  find  them." 

"  I  don't  want  any  new  ones,"  exclaimed  the 
Little  Colonel,  gloomily.  "There'll  nevah  be  any- 
body that  I'll  take  the  same  interest  in  that  I  do  in 
Betty  and  Joyce  and  Eugenia." 

Yet  even  as  she  spoke,  there  were  coming  toward 
her  life,  nearer  and  nearer  as  the  days  went  by, 
other  friends,  who  were  to  have  a  large  part  in  mak- 
ing its  happiness,  and  who  were  to  fill  it  with  new 
interests  and  new  pleasures. 


CHAPTER   X. 

HOME  -  LESSONS    AND    JACK  -  o'  -  LANTERNS. 

It  was  hard  for  the  Little  Colonel  to  start  back  to 
school  after  her  long  holiday.  Hard,  in  the  first 
place,  because  she  was  a  month  behind  her  classes, 
and  had  extra  home-lessons  to  learn.  Hard,  in  the 
second  place,  because  a  more  gorgeous  October  had 
never  been  known  in  the  Valley,  and  all  out-doors 
called  to  her  to  come  and  play.  In  the  lanes  the 
sumach  flamed  crimson,  and  in  the  avenues  the 
maples  turned  gold.  In  the  woods,  where  the  nuts 
were  dropping  all  day  long,  the  dogwood-trees  hung 
out  their  coral  berries,  and  every  beech  and  sweet 
gum  put  on  a  glory  of  its  own. 

"  Oh,  mothah,  I  can't  study,"  Lloyd  declared  one 
afternoon.  "  I  don't  care  whethah  the  Amazon 
Rivah  rises  in  South  America  or  the  South  Pole; 
an'  I  think  those  old  Mexicans  were  horrid  to  give 
their  volcanoes  an'  things  such  terrible  long  names. 
They  ought  to  have  thought  about  the  trouble  they 
were  makin'  for  all  the  poah  children  in  the  world 

129 


130  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

who  would  have  to  learn  to  spell  them.  I  nevah  can 
learn  Popocatepetl.  Why  didn't  they  call  it  some- 
thing easy,  like —  like  Crosspatch  !  "  she  added,  clos- 
ing her  book  with  a  bang.  "  That's  the  way  it  makes 
me  feel,  anyhow.  It  is  going  to  take  all  afternoon 
to  get  this  one  lesson." 

"  Not  if  you  put  your  mind  on  it.  Your  lips  have 
been  saying  it  over  and  over,  but  your  thoughts  seem 
to  be  miles  away." 

"  But  everything  interrupts  me,"  complained 
Lloyd.  "The  bumble-bees  an'  the  woodpeckahs 
an'  the  jay-birds  are  all  a-callin'.  I'm  goin'  in  the 
house  an'  sit  on  the  stair  steps  an'  put  my  fingahs 
in  my  yeahs.  Maybe  I  can  study  bettah  that 
way." 

The  plan  worked  like  a  charm.  In  less  than  ten 
minutes  she  was  back  again,  glibly  reciting  her  geog- 
raphy lesson.  After  that  all  her  home-lessons  were 
learned  on  the  stairs,  where  no  out-door  sights  and 
sounds  could  arrest  her  attention. 

She  was  in  the  midst  of  her  lessons  one  afternoon, 
her  book  open  on  her  knees,  and  her  hands  over  her 
ears,  when  she  felt,  rather  than  heard,  the  jar  of  a 
heavy  chair  drawn  across  the  porch.  Dropping  her 
hands  from  her  ears,  she  heard  her  mother  say : 
"Take  this  rocker,  Allison.     I'm  so  glad  you  have 


"THE    PLAN    WORKED    LIKE    A    CHARM. 


HOME  ■  LESSONS.  1 3 1 

come.  I  have  been  wishing  that  you  would  all 
afternoon." 

"Oh,  it  is  Miss  Allison  Maclntyre!"  thought 
Lloyd.  "  I  wish  I  didn't  have  to  study  while  she 
is  heah.     I  love  to  listen  to  her  talk." 

Thinking  to  get  through  as  soon  as  possible,  she 
turned  her  attention  resolutely  to  her  book,  but, 
after  a  few  moments,  she  could  not  resist  stopping 
to  lift  her  head  and  listen,  just  to  find  out  what  sub- 
ject they  were  discussing.  Although  Miss  Allison 
was  her  mother's  friend,  Lloyd  claimed  her  as  her 
own  especial  property.  But  all  children  did  that. 
Such  was  the  charming  interest  with  which  she 
entered  into  comradeship  with  every  boy  and  girl 
in  the  Valley,  that  they  counted  her  one  of  them- 
selves. A  party  without  Miss  Allison  was  not  to 
be  thought  of,  and  a  picnic  was  sure  to  be  a  failure 
unless  she  was  one  of  the  number. 

The  two  little  knights,  Keith  and  Malcolm,  were 
privileged,  by  reason  of  family  ties,  to  call  her  auntie, 
but  there  were  many  like  Lloyd  who  put  her  on  a 
pedestal  in  their  affections,  and  claimed  a  kinship 
almost  as  dear.  Presently  Lloyd  caught  a  word  that 
made  her  prick  up  her  ears,  and  she  leaned  forward, 
listening  eagerly. 

"  Sister  Mary's  children  are  coming  out  next  Sat- 


132  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

urday.  I  was  lying  awake  last  night,  wondering  what 
I  could  do  to  entertain  them,  when  it  popped  into  my 
head  that  Saturday  will  be  the  last  day  of  October, 
and  of  course  they'll  want  to  celebrate  Hallowe'en." 
*  "  Sister  Mary's  children,"  repeated  Lloyd  to  her- 
self, with  a  puzzled  expression,  that  suddenly  turned 
to  one  of  joyful  recollection.  "  Oh,  she  means  the 
little  Waltons !  I  wondah  how  long  they've  been 
back  in  America  ?  " 

Her  geography  slipped  unnoticed  to  the  floor,  as 
she  sat  thinking  of  her  old  playmates,  whom  she  had 
not  seen  since  their  departure  for  the  Philippines, 
and  wondering  if  they  had  changed  much  in  their 
long  absence.  There  were  four  of  them,  Ranald 
(she  remembered  that  he  must  be  fourteen  now, 
counting  by  his  cousin  Malcolm's  age)  and  his  three 
younger  sisters,  Allison,  Kitty,  and  Elise.  Some  of 
the  happiest  days  that  Lloyd  could  remember  had 
been  the  ones  spent  with  them  in  the  big  tent  pitched 
on  the  Maclntyre  lawn  ;  for  no  matter  how  far  west 
was  the  army  post  at  which  their  father  happened  to 
be  stationed,  they  had  been  brought  back  every  sum- 
mer to  visit  their  grandmother  in  the  old  Kentucky 
home. 

Lloyd  had  not  seen  them  since  their  father  had 
been  made  a  general,  and  they  had  gone  away  on 


HOME -LESSONS.  1 33 

the  transport  to  the  strange  new  life  in  the  Philip- 
pines. Although  many  interesting  letters  were  sent 
back  to  the  Valley,  in  which  the  whole  neighbourhood 
was  interested,  it  happened  that  Lloyd  had  never 
heard  any  of  them  read.  Her  old  playmates  seemed 
to  have  dropped  completely  out  of  her  life,  until 
one  sad  day  when  the  country  hung  its  flags  at 
half-mast,  and  the  black  head-lines  in  every  news- 
paper in  the  land  announced  the  loss  of  a  nation's 
hero. 

Lloyd  remembered  how  strange  it  seemed  to  read 
the  account,  and  know  it  was  Ranald's  father  who 
was  meant.  She  thought  of  them  often  in  the 
weeks  that  followed,  for  Papa  Jack  could  not  pick 
up  a  newspaper  without  reading  some  touching  trib- 
ute to  the  brave  general's  memory,  some  beautiful 
eulogy  on  his  heroic  life,  but  somehow  the  strange 
experiences  her  little  playmates  were  passing  through 
seemed  to  set  them  apart  from  other  children  in 
Lloyd's  imagination,  and  she  thought  of  them  as 
people  in  a  book,  instead  of  children  she  had  romped 
with  through  many  a  long  summer  day. 

As  she  listened  to  the  voice  on  the  porch  she 
found  that  Miss  Allison  was  talking  about  her  sister, 
and  telling  some  of  the  interesting  things  that  had 
happened  to  the  children  in  Manila.     It  was  more 


134  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

than  the  Little  Colonel  could  endure,  to  sit  in  the 
house  and  hear  only  snatches  of  conversation. 

"  Oh,  mothah,  please  let  me  come  out  and  listen," 
she  begged.  "  I'll  study  to-night  instead,  if  you  will. 
I'll  learn  two  sets  of  lessons  if  you'll  let  me  put  it 
off  just  this  once."  There  was  a  laughing  consent 
given,  and  the  next  moment  Lloyd  was  seated  on 
a  low  stool  at  Miss  Allison's  feet,  looking  up  into 
her  face  with  an  expectant  smile,  ready  for  every 
word  that  might  fall  from  her  lips. 

"  I  was  telling  your  mother  about  Ranald,"  began 
Miss  Allison.  "  She  asked  me  how  it  came  about 
that  such  a  little  fellow  was  made  captain  in  the 
army." 

"  Oh,  was  he  a  really  captain  ? "  cried  Lloyd,  in 
surprise.  "  I  thought  it  was  just  a  nickname  like 
mine  that  they  gave  him,  because  his  father  was  a 
general." 

"  No,  he  was  really  a  captain,  the  youngest  in  the 
army  of  the  United  States  Volunteers,  for  he  re- 
ceived his  appointment  and  his  shoulder-straps  a 
few  weeks  before  his  twelfth  birthday.  He'll  never 
forget  that  Fourth  of  July  if  he  lives  to  be  a  hun- 
dred ;  for  those  shoulder-straps  meant  more  to  him 
than  all  the  noise  and  sky-rockets  and  powder-burns 
of  all  the  boys  in  America  put  together.     You  sec 


HOME  -  LESSONS.  1 3  5 

he  had  been  under  fire  at  the  battle  of  San  Pedro 
Macati.  He  had  gone  out  with  his  father,  a  short 
time  after  they  landed  in  Manila,  and  the  general 
in  command  invited  them  out  on  the  firing  line. 
Before  they  realised  their  peril,  they  suddenly  found 
themselves  under  a  sharp  fire  from  the  enemy.  One 
of  the  staff  said  afterward  that  he  had  never  seen 
greater  coolness  in  the  face  of  as  great  danger,  and 
all  the  officers  praised  his  self-possession.  For  a 
little  while  the  bullets  whizzed  around  him  thick  and 
fast.  One  hit  the  ground  between  his  feet.  Another 
grazed  his  hat,  but  all  he  said  as  one  hummed  by  was, 
'  Oh,  papa,  did  you  see  that  ?  It  looked  like  a  hop- 
toad.' 

"  It  was  a  terrible  sight  for  a  child's  eyes,  for  he 
saw  war  in  all  its  horrors,  and  his  mother  did  not 
want  him  to  take  the  risks  of  any  more  battle- 
fields, but  he  was  a  true  soldier's  son,  and  insisted 
on  following  his  father  wherever  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  go.  At  the  battle  of  Zapote  River  he  was 
in  no  danger,  for  he  had  been  put  in  a  church  tower 
overlooking  the  field.  But  that  was  a  terrible  ordeal, 
for  all  day  long  he  stood  by  the  window,  expect- 
ing any  minute  to  see  his  father  fall.  All  day 
long  he  looked  for  him,  towering  above  his  men, 
and  whenever  he  lost  sight  of  him  for  awhile,  he 


136  THE  LITTLE    COLONEVS  HOLIDAYS. 

leaned  out  to  watch  the  litters  the  men  were  carry. 
ing  into  the  church  below  where  they  brought  the 
dead  and  dying.  It  was  always  with  the  sickening 
dread  that  the  still  figure  on  some  one  of  them  might 
be  that  of  his  beloved  father.  Sister  Mary  sent  me 
a  copy  of  the  official  announcement,  that  gave  him 
the  rank  of  captain.  It  mentions  his  coolness  under 
fire.  You  may  imagine  I  am  quite  proud  of  that 
little  document,  for  I  always  think  of  Ranald  as  he 
was  when  I  had  him  with  me  most,  a  sensitive  little 
fellow  with  golden  curls  and  big  brown  eyes,  as  silent 
and  reserved  as  his  father.  You  see  I  know  that 
his  courage  has  no  element  of  daring  recklessness. 
So  many  things  he  did  showed  that,  even  when  he 
was  a  baby.  It  is  just  quiet  grit  that  takes  him 
through  the  things  that  hardier  boys  might  court. 
That,  and  his  strong  will. 

"At  first  he  was  appointed  aide-de-camp  on  his 
lather's  staff,  and  went  with  him  on  all  his  expedi- 
tions, and  rode  on  a  dear  little  Filipino  pony.  The 
natives  called  him  the  Pickaninny  Captain.  He  was 
under  fire  again  at  the  capture  of  Calamba,  and  soon 
after  he  was  made  an  aide  on  Gen.  Fred.  Grant's 
staff.  Once  while  under  him  he  was  ordered  back 
in  charge  of  some  insurgents'  guns  that  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  Americans,  to  be  turned  in  at 


HOME  ■  LESSONS.  1 3  7 

headquarters.  So  you  see  he  was  a  «  really  '  captain 
as  you  called  him." 

"  Oh,  tell  some  more,  Miss  Allison,"  begged  Lloyd, 
thinking  that  the  subject  might  be  dropped,  when 
Miss  Allison  paused  for  a  moment. 

"Well,  I  hardly  know  what  else  to  tell.  His 
room  is  full  of  relics  and  trophies  he  brought  home 
with  him,  —  shells  and  bullets  and  bolos  —  great 
savage  knives  with  zigzag  two-edged  blades  —  flags, 
curios,  —  all  sorts  of  things  that  he  picked  up  or  that 
the  officers  gave  him.  His  mother  can  tell  you 
volumes  of  interesting  experiences  he  has  had,  but 
he  is  as  shy  and  modest  as  ever  about  his  own  affairsv 
and  maybe  he'll  never  speak  of  them.  He'll  tell  you 
possibly  of  the  deer  which  the  English  consul  gave 
him,  and  the  pet  monkey  that  followed  him  every- 
where, even  when  it  had  to  swim  out  through  a  rice 
swamp  after  him ;  maybe  he'll  mention  the  Filipino 
pony  that  the  officers  gave  him  when  he  came  back 
to  America,  but  he  rarely  speaks  of  those  graver 
experiences,  those  scenes  of  battle  and  bloodshed." 

"It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  it  is  Ranald  who 
has  seen  and  done  all  those  things,"  said  the  Little 
Colonel,  thoughtfully.  "  When  you  play  with  people 
and  fuss  with  them,  and  slap  their  faces  when  they 
pull  your  hair,  or  throw  away  their  marbles  when 


I38         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

they  break  your  dolls,  as  we  did,  when  we  were  little, 
it  seems  so  queah  to  think  of  them  bein'  heroes." 

Miss  Allison  laughed  heartily.  "That's  a  uni- 
versal trouble,"  she  said.  "  We  never  can  be  heroes 
tp  our  family  and  neighbours.  Even  brass  buttons 
and  shoulder-straps  cannot  outshine  the  memory  of 
early  hair-pullings." 

"Tell  about  the  girls,"  said  Lloyd,  fearing  that  if 
a  pause  were  allowed  in  the  conversation  Miss  Allison 
would  begin  talking  about  something  less  entertaining 
than  her  nephew  and  nieces.  "  Do  they  still  love  to 
play  papah  dolls  and  have  tableaux  in  the  barn  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  they  do.  They  didn't  have  as 
exciting  a  time  as  Ranald,  for  of  course  they  stayed 
at  home  with  their  mother  in  the  palace  at  Manila. 
But  it  was  interesting.  It  had  queer  windows  of 
little  sliding  squares  of  mother-of-pearl,  that  were 
shut  only  when  it  rained.  They  could  peep  through 
and  see  the  coolies  in  their  capes  and  skirts  of  cocoa- 
nut  fibre,  and  the  big  hats,  like  inverted  baskets, 
that  made  them  look  as  if  they  had  stepped  out  of 
Robinson  Crusoe's  story. 

"  On  one  side  of  the  palace  was  the  Pasig  River, 
where  the  natives  go  by  in  their  long  skiffs.  On  the 
other  side  were  the  sights  of  the  streets.  Some- 
times it  was  only  an  old  peanut  vendor  whom  they 


HOME  -  LESSONS.  1  3  9 

watched,  or  a  man  with  fruit  or  boiled  eggs  or 
shrimps  or  duke.  Sometimes  it  was  the  seller  of 
parched  corn,  squatting  beside  the  earthen  pot  of 
embers  which  he  constantly  fanned,  as  he  turned 
the  ears  laid  across  it  to  roast.  And  sometimes  the 
ambulances  went  by  on  their  way  to  the  hospital, 
reminding  them  that  life  on  the  island  was  not  a 
happy  play-day  for  every  one.  I  am  sure  that  the 
Lady  of  Shalott  never  saw  more  entertaining  pictures 
in  her  magic  mirror  than  the  panorama  that  daily 
passed  those  windows  of  mother-of-pearl. 

"  Time  never  dragged  there,  you  may  be  sure. 
Sometimes  they  were  invited  to  spend  an  afternoon 
on  the  English  war-ship,  and  the  young  officers  gave 
them  a  spread  and  a  romp  over  the  ship.  Allison 
still  keeps  an  old  hat  with  the  ship's  ribbon  on  it  for 
a  hat-band,  which  a  gallant  little  midshipman  gave 
her  to  remind  her  of  the  good  times  they  had  had 
together  on  the  vessel.  The  English  consul  and 
vice-consul  frequently  invited  them  to  tiffin  or  to 
parties,  and  their  garden  of  monkeys  was  open  to 
their  little  American  neighbours  at  all  times. 

"  Coming  home  the  transport  stopped  in  a  Japanese 
harbour  for  a  week.  The  faithful  old  Japanese  ser- 
vants, Fuzzi  and  her  husband,  who  had  lived  with 
them  in  California  and  followed  them  to  the  Philip- 


140         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

pines,  were  with  them  on  the  transport.  This  place 
where  they  stopped  happened  to  be  their  native 
town,  so  they  took  the  children  on  land  every  day 
and  gave  them  a  glimpse  behind  the  scenes  of  Japan- 
ese life,  which  few  foreigners  see. 

"Then  Allison  had  a  birthday,  while  they  were 
homeward  bound,  away  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
Pacific,  and  the  ship's  cook  surprised  her  by  making 
her  a  magnificent  birthday  cake  with  her  name  on  it 
in  icing.  Oh,  they've  had  all  sorts  of  unusual  ex- 
periences, and  many,  no  doubt,  that  I  have  never 
heard  of,  although  they  have  been  back  in  America  a 
year.  But  now  that  they  have  taken  a  house  in 
town  I  expect  to  have  them  with  me  a  great  deal. 
And  that  brings  me  to  the  matter  I  came  up  to  see 
you  both  about.  They  are  coming  out  Saturday, 
and  I  want  you  to  help  me  give  them  a  Hallowe'en 
party." 

"  Another  holiday !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  clapping 
her  hands.  "I  had  forgotten  that  there  was  any- 
thing to  celebrate  between  Fourth  of  July  and 
Thanksgiving.  I  never  went  to  a  Hallowe'en  party 
in  my  life,  but  it  sounds  as  if  it  would  be  lots  of 
fun." 

"  Do  you  remember  the  old  house  at  Hart  well 
Hollow  that  has  been  vacant  so  long  ? "  asked  Miss 


HOME  -  LESSONS  14 1 

Allison.  "  The  coloured  people  say  it  is  haunted. 
Of  course  we  do  not  believe  such  foolish  things,  or 
any  of  the  foolishness  of  Hallowe'en  in  fact,  but  as 
Jong  as  we're  going  to  resurrect  the  old  superstitions, 
it  is  appropriate  to  have  a  haunted  house  for  the 
purpose.  The  landlord  says  that  it  is  that  report 
which  keeps  it  vacant.  I  saw  him  this  morning,  and 
got  his  permission  to  use  it  for  the  party.  I  think 
we  can  make  an  ideal  spot  of  it.  I'll  have  it  swept 
and  cleaned,  and  on  Saturday  afternoon  I  want  you 
both  to  come  and  help  me  decorate  it." 

"  Of  course  the  only  lights  must  be  Jack-o'-lan- 
terns," said  Mrs.  Sherman,  entering  into  the  plan 
as  heartily  as  if  she  had  been  Lloyd's  age.  "The 
corn-field  is  full  of  pumpkins.  Walker  can  make 
lanterns  all  day  if  necessary.  It  will  take  nearly 
a  hundred,  will  it  not,  Allison  ? " 

"  I  think  so,  although  we  will  light  only  the  down- 
stairs rooms,  but  there  ought  to  be  some  large  ones 
on  the  porches.  We'll  try  all  the  old  charms  that 
we  tried  when  we  were  children ;  bake  a  fate  cake, 
melt  lead,  bob  for  apples,  and  observe  every  silly  old 
custom  that  we  can  think  of.  The  house  is  unfur- 
nished except  for  an  old  stove  in  the  kitchen,  but  I 
can  easily  send  over  enough  tables  and  chairs." 

Miss  Allison  went  away  soon,  after  they  had  fin- 


142  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

ished  all  their  plans,  and  Lloyd  stood  looking  after 
her  as  long  as  she  was  in  sight. 

"  How  can  I  wait  until  Saturday  ? "  she  asked, 
with  a  wriggle  of  impatience.  "I'm  so  glad  she 
asked  us  to  help.  Getting  ready  for  things  is  nearly 
as  much  fun  as  the  things  themselves.  But  Hal- 
lowe'en pahties  and  home-lessons  don't  mix  very 
well.  I'll  be  thinking  about  that  now,  instead  of 
my  lessons.  Oh,  mothah,  it  seems  to  me  I  nevah 
can  learn  to  spell  that  old  volcano.  I  knew  how 
last  week,  but  I  missed  it  again  yestahday  when  we 
had  review  in  spelling." 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  way  to  mix  Hallowe'en  and 
home-lessons  in  such  a  way  that  you  will  never 
forget  one  word,  at  least,"  said  her  mother.  "Tell 
Walker  to  bring  the  largest,  roundest  pumpkin 
that  he  can  find  in  the  field,  and  put  it  on  the 
bench  by  the  spring-house.  Call  me  when  he  is 
ready." 

Wondering  what  pumpkins  and  volcanoes  had  to 
do  with  each  other,  but  charmed  with  the  novelty 
of  her  mother's  way  of  teaching  spelling,  Lloyd 
went  skipping  down  the  path  to  give  the  order  to 
Walker.  It  was  only  a  little  while  until  she  was  back 
again. 

"  It   is   the   biggest   pumpkin   I   evah   saw,"    she 


HOME  -  LESSONS.  1 43 

reported.  "  It  was  too  big  fo'  Walkah  to  carry. 
He  had  to  bring  it  up  on  a  wheelbarrow." 

Taking  a  carving-knife  as  she  passed  through  the 
kitchen,  Mrs.  Sherman  caught  up  her  dainty  skirts 
and  followed  Lloyd  down  the  path  to  the  spring- 
house.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  and  a  touch 
of  frost  was  in  the  air.  The  yellow  maple  leaves 
were  floating  softly  down  from  the  branches  above 
the  path,  and  wherever  the  sun  touched  them  on 
the  ground  lay  a  carpet  of  shining  gold. 

"  See,  mothah,  isn't  it  a  whoppah  ? "  cried  Lloyd, 
trying  to  put  her  arms  around  the  mammoth  pumpkin 
on  the  bench.  "  It  is  a  beauty,"  answered  Mrs. 
Sherman,  as  she  began  deftly  outlining  a  face  on 
one  side  of  it,  with  the  sharp  carving-knife.  First 
she  drew  two  large  circles  in  the  yellow  skin  where 
the  eyes  were  to  be  cut,  a  triangle  for  the  nose,  and 
a  grinning  crescent  just  below  for  the  mouth. 

"Now,"  she  said,  passing  the  knife  to  Lloyd, 
"carve  the  letters  P-0  in  each  circle.  It  does  not 
matter  if  they  are  crooked.  They  are  to  be  cut  out 
with  the  circle  afterwhile.  Now  in  the  triangle  put 
the  word  CAT  and  the  letter  E  after  it,  and  in  the 
crescent  the  word  PET  and  the  letter  L.  Now  what 
does  the  face  say  to  you  ? " 

"  The    eyes   say  popo,   the  nose   cat-  e  and   the 


144         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

mouth  pet-1,"  answered  Lloyd,  laughing  at  the 
comical  face  outlined  on  the  pumpkin. 

"  Shut  your  eyes  and  spell  Popocatepetl,"  said 
Mrs.  Sherman. 

"Why,  it  is  just  as  easy,"  cried  Lloyd,  as  she 
rattled  it  off.  "  I  can  see  each  syllable  grinning 
at  me,  one  aftah  the  othah.  I  am  suah  I'll  nevah 
fo'get  it  now.  I  like  your  way  of  teaching,  bettah 
than  anybody's." 

Presently,  as  she  scooped  out  the  seeds  while  her 
mother  made  a  mandarin  hat  of  the  slice  she  had 
cut  off  below  the  stem,  she  said,  "  Old  Popocatepetl 
will  make  the  biggest  Jack-o'-lantern  of  them  all. 
It's  a  good  name  for  him,  too,  because  he'll  be  all 
smoke  and  nah  inside  aftah  the  candles  are  lighted- 
We  can  put  him  ovah  the  front  doah.  I  wondah 
what  Allison  and  Kitty  and  Elise  will  think  of  him, 
Oh,  mothah,  do  you  remembah  the  time  that  Kitty 
set  all  the  clocks  and  watches  in  the  house  back  a 
whole  hour  and  made  everybody  late  fo'  church  ? 
And  the  time  she  folded  a  grasshoppah  up  in  every- 
body's napkin,  the  night  the  ministah  was  invited 
to  Mrs.  Maclntyre's  to  dinnah,  and  what  a  mighty 
hoppin'  there  was  as  soon  as  the  napkins  were  un- 
folded?" 

Once  started  on  Kitty's  pranks,  Lloyd  went  on 


HOME  -  LESSONS.  1 45 

with  a  chapter  of  don't  you  remember  this  and 
don't  you  remember  that,  until  the  sun  went  down 
behind  the  western  hills  and  old  Popocatepetl  grinned 
in  ugly  completeness  even  to  the  last  tooth  in  his 
wide-spread  jaw 


CHAPTER   XI. 
A  Hallowe'en  party. 

Nothing  worse  than  rats  and  spiders  haunted  the 
old  house  of  Hart  well  Hollow,  but  set  far  back  from 
the  road  in  a  tangle  of  vines  and  cedars,  it  looked 
lonely  and  neglected  enough  to  give  rise  to  almost  any 
report.  The  long  unused  road,  winding  among  the 
rockeries  from  gate  to  house,  was  hidden  by  a  rank 
growth  of  grass  and  mullein.  From  one  of  the  trees 
beside  it  an  aged  grape-vine  swung  down  its  long 
snaky  limbs,  as  if  a  bunch  of  giant  serpents  had  been 
caught  up  in  a  writhing  mass  and  left  to  dangle  from 
tree-top  to  earth.  Cobwebs  veiled  the  windows,  and 
dead  leaves  had  drifted  across  the  porches  until  they 
lay  knee-keep  in  some  of  the  corners. 

As  Miss  Allison  paused  in  front  of  the  doorstep 
with  the  keys,  a  snake  glided  across  her  path  and 
disappeared  in  one  of  the  tangled  rockeries.  Both 
the  coloured  women  who  were  with  her  jumped  back, 
and  one  screamed. 

"It  won't  hurt  you,  Sylvia,"  said  Miss  Allison, 
146 


A   HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  1 47 

laughingly.  "An  old  poet  who  owned  this  place 
when  I  was  a  child  made  pets  of  all  the  snakes,  and 
even  brought  some  up  from  the  woods  as  he  did  the 
wild  flowers.     That  is  a  perfectly  harmless  kind." 

"  Maybe  so,  honey,"  said  old  Sylvia,  with  a  wag  of 
her  turbaned  head,  "but  I  'spise  'em  all,  I  sho'ly  do. 
It's  a  bad  sign  to  meet  up  wid  one  right  on  de 
do'step.  If  it  wasn't  fo'  you,  Miss  Allison,  I  wouldn't 
put  foot  in  such  a  house.  An'  I  tell  you  p'intedly, 
what  I  says  is  gospel  truth,  if  I  ketch  sound  of  a 
han't,  so  much  as  even  a  rustlin'  on  de  flo',  ole  Sylvia 
gwine  out'n  a  windah  fo'  you  kin  say  scat !  Don't 
ketch  dis  ole  niggah  foolin'  roun'  long  whar  ghos'es 
is.     Pete's  got  to  go  in  first  an'  open  de  house." 

But  not  even  the  rats  interrupted  Sylvia  in  her 
sweeping  and  garnishing,  and  by  four  o'clock  all  the 
rooms  which  were  to  be  used  were  as  clean  as  three 
of  Mrs.  Maclntyre's  best  trained  servants  could  make 
them. 

"  Even  ole  Miss  would  call  that  clean,"  said  Sylvia, 
looking  around  on  the  white  floors  and  shining  win- 
dow-panes with  a  satisfied  air. 

Mrs.  Sherman  had  driven  down  some  time  before, 
with  a  carriage-load  of  Jack-o'-lanterns,  and  was  now 
arranging  them  in  rows  on  all  the  old-fashioned  black 
mantels.     She  looked  around  as  Sylvia  spoke. 


I48  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  It  would  have  been  spookier  to  have  left  the  dust 
and  cobwebs,"  she  said,  "  but  this  is  certainly  nicer 
and  more  cheerful." 

Fires  were  blazing  on  every  hearth,  in  parlour, 
dining-room,  and  hall,  to  dissipate  the  dampness  of 
the  long  unused  rooms.  A  kettle  was  singing  on  the 
kitchen  stove,  and  tables  and  chairs  had  been  brought 
over  and  arranged  in  the  empty  rooms.  All  that  the 
woods  could  contribute  in  the  way  of  crimson  berries, 
trailing  vines,  and  late  autumn  leaves,  had  been 
brought  in  to  brighten  the  bare  walls  and  festoon  the 
uncurtained  windows.  The  chestnuts,  the  apples, 
the  tubs  of  water,  the  lead,  and  everything  else 
necessary  for  the  working  of  the  charms  was  in 
readiness ;  the  refreshments  were  in  the  pantry,  and 
on  the  kitchen  table  Lloyd  was  arranging  the  ingre- 
dients for  the  fate  cake. 

"There  couldn't  be  a  bettah  place  for  a  Hallowe'en 
pahty,"  she  said,  looking  around  the  rooms  when  all 
was  done.  "No  mattah  how  much  we  romp  and 
play,  there's  nothing  that  can  be  hurt.  Won't  it  look 
shivery  when  all  the  Jack-o'-lanterns  are  lighted  ? 
Just  as  if  some  old  ogah  of  a  Bluebeard  lived  heah, 
who  kept  the  heads  of  all  his  wives  and  neighbours 
sittin'  around  on  all  the  mantels  an'  shelves." 

It  was  in  the  ruddy  glow  of  the  last  bright  Octo* 


A  HALLOWE'EN  PARTY,  149 

ber  sunset  that  they  drove  away  from  the  house 
to  go  home  to  dinner.  Even  then  the  grounds 
looked  desolate  and  forlorn ;  but  it  was  doubly  grue- 
some when  they  came  back  at  night.  The  Little 
Colonel  and  her  mother  were  first  to  arrive.  They 
had  offered  to  come  early  and  light  the  lanterns, 
as  Miss  Allison  was  expecting  all  her  nieces  and 
nephews  on  the  seven  o'clock  train,  and  wanted 
to  go  down  to  meet  them. 

The  wind  was  blowing  in  fitful  gusts,  rustling  the 
dead  leaves  and  swaying  the  snaky  branches  of 
the  grape-vine  until  they  seemed  startlingly  alive. 
Now  and  then  the  moon  looked  out  like  a  pale 
bleared  eye. 

"It  is  a  real  Tarn  O'Shanter  night,"  said  Miss 
Allison,  as  she  led  the  way  up  the  winding  walk 
to  the  front  door.  "  I  can  easily  imagine  witches 
flying  over  my  head.  Can't  you  ? "  she  asked,  turn- 
ing to  the  little  group  surrounding  her.  There 
were  eight  children.  For  not  only  Ranald  and  his 
sisters  had  come  with  Malcolm  and  Keith,  but  Rob 
Moore  and  his  cousin  Anna  had  been  invited  to  come 
out  from  town  to  try  their  fortunes  at  Hartwell  Hol- 
low, and  spend  the  night  in  the  Valley  where  they 
always  passed  their  haopy  summers. 

"Oh,  auntie!     What's  that?"    cried  little  Elise, 


I50         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

holding  tightly  to  Miss  Allison's  hand,  as  she  caught 
sight  of  Lloyd's  old  Popocatepetl,  grinning  a  welcome 
by  the  front  door.  He  looked  like  a  mammoth 
dragon,  spouting  fire  from  nose,  eyes  and  mouth. 

Elise  clung  a  little  closer  to  Miss  Allison's  side 
as  they  drew  nearer.  "What  awful  teeth  it's  got, 
hasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  grains  of  corn,  dear.  Lloyd  stuck 
them  in.  You  haven't  forgotten  the  Little  Colonel, 
have  you  ?  She  is  inside  the  house  now,  waiting  to 
see  you."  Then  Miss  Allison  turned  to  the  others. 
"  Step  high,  children,  every  one  of  you,  when  you 
come  to  this  broomstick  lying  across  the  door-sill. 
Be  sure  to  step  over  it,  or  some  witch  might  slip 
in  with  you.  It  is  the  only  way  to  keep  them  out  on 
Hallowe'en.     Step  high,  Elise  !     Here  we  go  !  " 

"  That's  one  of  the  nice  things  about  auntie,"  Kitty 
confided  to  Anna  Moore  as  they  followed.  "  She 
acts  as  if  she  really  believes  those  old  charms,  and 
that  makes  them  seem  so  real  that  we  enjoy  them  so 
much  more." 

The  Little  Colonel,  waiting  in  the  hall  for  the 
guests  to  arrive,  had  been  feeling  a  little  shy  about 
renewing  her  acquaintance  with  Ranald  and  his 
sisters.  It  seemed  to  her  that  they  must  have 
seen  so  much  and   learned    so  much  in  their  trip 


A  HALLO  WE  'EN  PARTY.  1 5 1 

around  the  world,  that  they  would  not  care  to  talk 
about  ordinary  matters.  But  when  they  all  came 
tumbling  in  over  the  broomstick,  they  seemed  to 
tumble  at  the  same  time  from  the  pedestals  where 
her  imagination  had  placed  them,  back  into  the 
old  familiar  footing  just  where  they  had  been  before 
they  went  away. 

Lloyd  had  thought  about  Ranald  many  times 
since  Miss  Allison's  account  of  him  had  made  him 
a  hero  in  her  eyes.  She  could  not  think  of  him 
in  any  way  but  as  dressed  in  a  uniform,  riding 
along  under  fluttering  flags  to  the  sound  of  martial 
music.  So  when  Miss  Allison  called,  "  Here  is  the 
captain,  Little  Colonel,"  her  face  flushed  as  if  she 
were  about  to  meet  some  distinguished  stranger. 
But  it  was  the  same  quiet  Ranald  who  greeted 
her,  much  taller  than  when  he  went  away,  but 
dressed  just  like  the  other  boys,  and  not  even 
bronzed  by  his  long  marches  under  the  tropical 
sun.  The  year  that  had  passed  since  his  return  had 
blotted  out  all  trace  of  his  soldier  life  in  his  appear- 
ance, except,  perhaps,  the  military  erectness  with 
which  he  held  himself. 

Kitty,  after  catching  Lloyd  by  the  shoulders  for 
an  impulsive  hug  and  kiss,  started  at  once  to  examine 
the  haunted  house. 


152         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"There'll  be  mischief  brewing  in  a  little  bit,  I'll 
promise  you,"  said  Miss  Allison,  as  Kitty's  head  with 
its  short  black  hair  dodged  past  her,  and  there  was 
a  flash  of  a  red  dress  up  the  stairway.  "  She  is  look- 
ing for  the  '  ghos'es '  that  Sylvia  told  her  were  up 
there." 

Elise  clung  to  Allison's  hand,  for  the  little  sister 
wanted  the  protection  of  the  big  one,  in  those 
ghostly-looking  rooms,  lighted  only  by  the  fires  and 
the  yellow  gleam  of  those  rows  of  weird,  uncanny 
Jack-o'-lantern  faces.  Like  Kitty,  both  Allison  and 
Elise  had  big  dark  eyes  that  might  have  been  the 
pride  of  a  Spanish  senorita,  they  were  so  large  and 
lustrous.  Kitty's  curls  had  been  cut,  but  theirs 
hung  thick  and  long  on  their  shoulders.  The  sight 
of  them  moved  Rob  to  a  compliment. 

"  You  and  Anna  Moore  make  me  think  of  night 
and  morning,"  he  said,  looking  from  Anna's  golden 
hair  to  Allison's  dusky  curls.  "  One  is  so  light  and 
one  is  so  black.  You  ought  to  go  around  together 
all  the  time.     You  look  fine  together." 

"  Rob  is  growing  up,"  laughed  Anne.  "  Two 
years  ago  he  wouldn't  have  thought  about  making 
pretty  speeches  about  our  hair;  he'd  just  have 
pulled  it." 

"  Here  comes  a  whole  crowd  of  people,"  exclaimed 


A   HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  1 53 

Allison,  as  the  door  opened  again.  "  I  wonder  how 
many  of  the  girls  I'll  know.  Oh,  there's  Corinne 
and  Katie  and  Margery  and  Julia  Forrest.  Why, 
nobody  seems  to  have  changed  a  bit.  Come  on, 
Lloyd,  let's  go  and  speak  to  them." 

"I'm  glad  that  everybody  is  coming  early,"  said 
Lloyd,  "  so  that  we  can  begin  the  fate  cake." 

That  was  the  first  performance.  When  the  guests 
had  all  arrived,  they  were  taken  into  the  kitchen. 
Under  the  ban  of  silence  (for  the  speaking  of  a  word 
would  have  broken  the  charm)  they  stood  around  the 
table,  giggling  as  the  cake  was  concocted,  out  of 
a  cup  of  salt,  a  cup  of  flour,  and  enough  water  to 
make  a  thick  batter.  A  ring,  a  thimble,  a  dime,  and 
a  button  were  dropped  into  it,  and  each  guest  gave 
the  mixture  a  solemn  stir  before  the  pan  was  put 
into  the  oven,  and  left  in  charge  of  old  Mom  Beck. 

By  that  time  the  two  tubs  of  water  had  been 
carried  into  the  hall.  Several  dozen  apples  were  set 
afloat  in  them,  with  a  folded  strip  of  paper  pinned  to 
each  bearing  a  hidden  name.  By  the  time  these  had 
been  lifted  out  by  their  stems  in  the  teeth  of  the 
laughing  contestants,  the  lead  was  melted  ready  to 
use. 

They  tried  their  fate  with  that  next,  pouring  a 
little   out  into  a  plate  of   water,   to   see  into  what 


154         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

shapes  the  drops  would  instantly  harden.  Strangely 
enough,  Ranald's  took  the  shape  of  a  sword.  Mal- 
colm's was  a  lion  and  Keith's  a  ship,  the  Little 
Colonel's  a  star  and  Rob's  a  spur.  Some  could  have 
been  called  almost  anything,  like  the  one  little  Elise 
found  in  her  plate.  She  could  not  decide  whether  to 
call  it  a  sugar-bowl  or  a  chicken.  But  Miss  Allison 
explained  them  all,  giving  some  funny  meaning  to 
each,  and  setting  them  all  to  laughing  with  the  queer 
fortunes  she  declared  these  lead  drops  predicted. 

They  tried  all  the  old  customs  they  had  ever  heard 
of.  They  popped  chestnuts  on  a  shovel,  they  counted 
apple-seeds,  they  threw  the  parings  over  their  heads 
to  see  what  initials  they  would  form  in  falling.  They 
blindfolded  each  other  and  groped  across  the  room  to 
the  table,  on  which  stood  three  saucers,  one  filled 
with  ashes,  one  with  water,  and  one  standing  empty, 
to  see  whether  life,  death,  or  single  blessedness 
awaited  them  in  the  coming  year. 

In  the  midst  of  these  games  Kitty  beckoned  the 
boys  aside  and  led  them  out  on  the  porch.  "What 
do  you  think  ?"  she  whispered.  "  After  all  the  trouble 
auntie  has  taken  to  plan  different  entertainments, 
Cora  Ferris  isn't  satisfied.  I  heard  her  talking  to 
some  of  the  older  girls.  She  told  Eliza  Hughes  that 
she  expected  some  excitement  when  she  carne,  and 


A    HALLO  WE  'EN  PAR  TV.  I  5  5 

that  she  was  dying  to  go  down  cellar  backward  with 
a  looking-glass  in  one  hand  and  a  candle  in  the  other. 
You  know  if  you  do  that,  the  person  whom  you're  to 
marry  will  come  and  look  over  your  shoulder,  and 
you  can  see  him  in  the  glass. 

"The  girls  begged  her  not  to,  and  told  her  that 
she'd  be  frightened  to  death  if  she  saw  anybody,  but 
she  whispered  to  Eliza  that  she  knew  she  wouldn't 
be  scared,  for  she  was  sure  Walter  Cummins  was  her 
fate,  and  would  have  to  be  down  in  the  cellar  if  she 
tried  the  charm,  and  that  she  wouldn't  be  afraid 
of  going  into  a  lion's  den  if  she  thought  Walter 
would  be  there.  And  Eliza  giggled  and  threatened 
to  tell,  and  Cora  got  red  and  put  her  hand  over 
Eliza's  mouth,  and  carried  on  awfully  silly.  It  made 
me  tired.  But  she's  bound  to  go  down  cellar  after 
awhile,  and  somebody  has  told  Walter  what  she  said, 
and  he's  going,  just  for  fun.  Now  I  think  it  would 
be  lots  of  fun  to  watch  Walter,  and  keep  him  from 
going,  on  some  excuse  or  another,  and  then  one  of 
you  boys  look  over  her  shoulder." 

"  Rob,  you're  the  biggest,  and  almost  as  tall  as 
Walter.  You  ought  to  be  the  one  to  go,"  suggested 
Keith. 

"  Down  in  that  spook  cellar  ? "  demanded  Rob. 
"  Not  much,  Keithie,  my  son.     I  might   see  some- 


I  $6         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

thing  myself,  without  the  help  of  a  looking-glass 
or  candle.  I  am  not  afraid  of  flesh  and  blood,  but 
I  vow  I'm  not  ready  to  have  my  hair  turn  white 
in  a  single  night.  I  have  been  brought  up  on 
stories  of  the  haunts  that  live  in  that  cellar.  My 
old  black  mammy  used  to  live  here,  and  she  has 
made  me  feel  as  if  my  blood  had  turned  to  ice- 
water,  lots  of  times,  with  her  tales." 

"You  go,  captain,"  said  Malcolm,  turning  to 
Ranald.  "  You've  been  under  fire,  and  oughtn't  to 
be  afraid  of  anything.  You've  got  a  reputation 
to  keep  up,  and  here  is  a  chance  for  you  to  show 
the  stuff  you  are  made  of." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  the  cellar,"  said  the  little 
captain,  stoutly,  "but  I'm  not  going  to  be  the  one 
to  look  over  her  shoulder  into  the  looking-glass. 
I  don't  want  to  run  any  risk  of  marrying  that  fat 
Cora  Ferris." 

A  shout  of  laughter  went  up  at  his  answer. 

"  You  won't  have  to,  goosey,"  said  Rob.  "  There's 
nothing  in  those  old  signs." 

"Well,  I  am  not  going  to  take  any  chances  with 
her,"  he  persisted,  backing  up  against  the  wall.  That 
settled  it.  They  could  have  moved  the  rock  foun- 
dation of  the  house  itself  easier  than  the  captain, 
when  he  took  that  kind  of  a  stand.     Looking:  at  it 


A   HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  1 57 

from  Ranald's  point  of  view,  none  of  the  boys  were 
willing  to  go  down  cellar,  for  they  could  easily 
imagine  how  the  others  would  tease  them  afterward. 
Kitty's  prank  would  have  fallen  through,  if  she  had 
not  been  quicker  than  a  weasel  at  planning  mischief. 

"What's  to  hinder  fixing  up  a  dummy  man,  and 
putting  him  down  there  ? "  she  suggested.  "  You 
boys  can  run  home  and  get  Uncle  Harry's  rubber 
boots,  and  his  old  slouch  hat,  and  some  pillows,  and 
that  military  cape  that  Ginger's  father  left  there, 
and  she'll  think  it  is  an  army  officer  that's  she's 
going  to  marry.     Won't  she  be  fooled  ? " 

The  boys  were  as  quick  to  act  as  Kitty  was  to 
plan.  A  noisy  game  of  blind  man's  buff  was  going 
on  inside  the  house,  so  no  one  missed  the  conspira- 
tors, although  they  were  gone  for  some  time. 

"We  just  ran  home  a  minute  for  something,"  was 
Keith's  excuse,  when  he  and  Malcolm  and  Ranald 
came  in,  red-faced  and  breathless.  Rob  and  Kitty 
were  still  in  the  cellar,  putting  the  finishing  touches 
to  the  army  officer.  Kitty  was  recklessly  fastening 
the  dummy  together  with  big  safety-pins,  regardless 
of  the  holes  she  was  making  in  her  Uncle  Harry's 
high  rubber  hunting-boots. 

"  Isn't  he  a  dandy ! "  exclaimed  Rob,  putting  the 
slouched  hat  on  the  pillow  head  at  a  fierce  angle, 


I58  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HO  LID  ATS. 

and  fastening  the  military  cape  up  around  the  chin 
as  far  as  possible.  "  Come  on  now,  Kitty,  let  us 
make  our  escape  before  anybody  comes." 

Meanwhue,  the  boys  had  corralled  Walter  Cummins, 
and  Cora,  seeing  him  leave  the  room,  thought  that 
the  proper  time  had  come.  Slipping  the  hand-mirror 
from  the  dressing-table  in  the  room  where  they  had 
left  their  wraps,  she  took  a  candle  from  one  of  the 
Jack-o'-lanterns  on  the  side  porch,  and  signalled  the 
girls  who  had  agreed  to  follow  her.  She  was  nearly 
sixteen,  but  the  three  girls  who  groped  their  way 
across  the  courtyard  in  the  flickering  light  of  her 
candle  were  much  younger. 

The  cellar  was  entered  from  the  courtyard,  by  an 
old-fashioned  door,  the  kind  best  adapted  to  sliding, 
and  it  took  the  united  strength  of  all  the  girls  to 
lift  it.  A  rush  of  cold,  damp  air  greeted  them,  and 
an  earthy  smell  that  would  have  checked  the  enthu- 
siasm of  any  girl  less  sentimental  than  Cora. 

"  I  am  frightened  to  death,  girls,"  she  confessed 
at  the  last  moment,  her  teeth  chattering.  Yet  she 
was  not  so  frightened  as  she  would  have  been  bad 
she  not  been  sure  that  Walter  had  gone  down  the 
steps  ahead  of  her. 

"  Hold  the  door  open,"  she  said,  preparing  to 
back  slowly  down.     Her  fluffy  light  hair  stood  out 


*«  SHE    BEGAN    THE   OLD    RHYME. 


A  HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  1 59 

like  an  aureole  in  the  yellow  candle-light,  and  the 

face  reflected  in  the  hand-mirror  was  pretty  enough 

to  answer  every  requirement  of  the  old  spell,  despite 

the  silly  simper  on  her  lips.     When  she  was  nearly 

at  the  bottom  of  the  cellar  steps  she  began  the  old 

rhyme : 

"  If  in  this  glass  his  face  I  see, 

Then  my  true  love  will  marry  me." 

But  the  couplet  ended  in  a  scream,  so  terrifying, 
so  ear-splitting,  so  blood-curdling,  that  Katie  dropped 
in  a  cold,  trembling  little  heap  on  the  ground,  and 
Eliza  Hughes  sank  down  on  top  of  Katie,  weak 
and  shivering.  Cora  had  seen  the  pillow-man  in 
the  cellar.  Dropping  the  looking-glass  with  a  crash, 
but  clinging  desperately  to  the  candle,  she  dashed 
up  the  steps  shrieking  at  every  breath.  Just  at  the 
top  she  stepped  on  the  front  of  her  skirt,  and  fell 
sprawling  forward.  She  dropped  the  candle  then,  but 
not  before  it  had  touched  her  hair  and  set  it  afire. 

The  soft  fluffy  bangs  blazed  up  like  tow,  and  too 
terrified  to  move,  Eliza  Hughes  still  sat  on  top  of 
Katie,  screaming  louder  than  Cora  had  done.  The 
sight  brought  Katie  to  her  senses,  however,  and 
scrambling  up  from  under  Eliza,  she  flew  at  Cora 
and  began  beating  out  the  fire  with  her  bare  hands. 
Cora,  who  had   not   discovered   that  her   hair  was 


l6o         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

ablaze,  did  not  know  what  to  make  of  such  strange 
treatment.  Her  first  thought  was  that  Katie  had 
gone  crazy  with  fright,  and  that  was  why  she  had 
flown  at  her  and  begun  to  beat  her  on  the  head. 
It  was  all  over  in  an  instant,  and  the  fire  put  out 
so  quickly  that  only  Cora's  bangs  were  scorched, 
and  Katie's  fingers  but  slightly  burned. 

But  the  screams  had  reached  through  the  uproar 
of  blind  man's  buff,  and  the  whole  party  poured  out 
into  the  courtyard  to  see  what  had  happened.  There 
was  great  excitement  for  a  little  while,  and  Kitty, 
enjoying  the  confusion  she  had  stirred  up,  giggled 
as  she  listened  to  Cora's  startling  description  of 
the  man  that  had  peeped  over  her  shoulder.  "  He 
didn't  look  like  any  one  I'd  ever  seen  before,"  she 
declared.  "  He  was  tall  and  handsome  and  dressed 
like  a  soldier." 

"  Oh,  surely  not,  Cora,"  answered  Miss  Allison, 
who  saw  that  some  of  the  little  girls  gathered  around 
her  were  badly  frightened.  "  That  couldn't  be,  you 
know.  The  cellar  is  quite  empty.  Give  me  the 
candle,  and  I'll  go  down  and  show  you." 

"Oh,  no,  please,  auntie,  don't  go  down,"  cried 
Kitty,  seeing  that  the  time  had  come  to  confess. 
"  It  is  just  a  Hallowe'en  joke.  We  didn't  suppose 
that  Cora  would  be  scared.      We  just  wanted  to 


A   HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  l6l 

tease  her  because  she  seemed  so  sure  that  she 
would  find  Walter  down  there.  Go  and  bring 
him  up,  boys." 

Ranald  and  Rob  started  down  the  stairs,  with 
Keith  carrying  a  candle,  and  Malcolm  calling  for 
Walter  to  come  on  and  help  carry  out  his  rival. 
The  four  boys,  picking  up  the  dummy  as  if  it  had 
been  a  real  man,  carried  it  up  the  steps  and  laid 
it  carefully  on  the  ground.  So  comical  did  it  look 
with  its  pudgy  pillow  face,  that  everybody  laughed 
except  Cora.  She  was  furiously  angry,  and  not  all 
Kitty's  penitent  speeches  or  the  boys'  polite  apolo- 
gies could  appease  her.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Miss 
Allison  she  would  have  flounced  home  in  high  dis- 
pleasure. But  she  as  usual  poured  oil  on  the 
troubled  waters,  and  talked  in  such  a  tactful  way 
of  her  harum-scarum  niece's  many  pranks,  that  there 
was  no  resisting  such  an  appeal.  She  allowed  herself 
to  be  led  back  to  the  house,  but  she  would  not  join 
in  any  of  the  games. 

"  Mom  Beck  says  I'll  have  bad  luck  for  seven 
years  because  I  broke  that  looking-glass,"  she  said, 
mournfully. 

"  Oh,  nonsense ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Allison.  "  Don't 
give  it  another  thought,  dear,  it  is  only  an  old  negro 
superstition." 


102  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

She  might  have  added  that  it  was  to  herself  and 
brother  the  ill  luck  had  come,  since  it  was  her  silver 
mirror  that  was  broken,  and  Harry's  rubber  boots 
that  would  be  henceforth  useless  for  wading  because 
of  the  holes  thoughtless  Kitty  had  made  in  them 
with  safety-pins,  when  she  fastened  them  to  the 
pillows. 

Refreshments  were  served  soon  after  they  went 
back  to  the  house.  Not  the  cakes  and  ices  that 
usually  attended  parties  in  the  Valley,  but  things 
suggestive  of  Hallowe'en.  Pop-corn,  nuts,  and  apples, 
doughnuts  and  molasses  candy.  Then  the  fate  cake 
was  cut,  and  everybody  took  a  slice  to  carry  hom6 
to  dream  on. 

"  Eat  it  the  last  thing  before  you  retire,"  said 
Miss  Allison.  "Then  walk  to  bed  backwards  with- 
out taking  a  drink  of  water  or  speaking  another  word 
to-night.  It  is  so  salty  that  it  is  likely  you  will 
dream  of  being  thirsty,  and  of  somebody  bringing 
you  water.  They  say  if  you  dream  of  its  being 
brought  in  a  golden  goblet  you  will  marry  into 
wealth.  If  in  a  tin  cup  poverty  will  be  your  lot. 
The  kind  of  vessel  you  see  in  your  dream  will 
decide  your  fate.  Ah,  Walter  got  the  button  in 
his  slice.  That  means  he  will  be  an  old  bachelor 
and  sew  his  own  buttons  on  all  his  life." 


A  HALLOWE'EN  PARTY.  1 63 

Anna  Moore  got  the  dime,  and  Eliza  Hughes  the 
ring,  which  foretold  that  she  would  be  the  first  one 
in  the  company  to  have  a  wedding.  The  thimble 
fell  to  no  one,  as  it  slipped  out  between  two  slices 
in  the  cutting.  "  That  means  none  of  us  will  be  old 
maids,"  said  little  Elise.  Miss  Allison  slipped  it  on 
Kitty's  finger.  "  To  mend  your  mischievous  ways 
with,"  she  said,  and  everybody  who  had  enjoyed  the 
pillow-man  laughed. 

The  moon  was  hiding  behind  a  cloud  when  at  last 
the  merry  party  said  good-night,  so  Miss  Allison 
provided  each  little  group  with  a  Jack-o'-lantern  to 
light  them  on  their  homeward  way.  As  the  gro- 
tesque yellow  heads  with  their  grinning  fire -faces 
went  bobbing  down  the  lonely  road,  it  was  well  for 
Tam  O'Shanter  that  he  need  not  pass  that  way. 
All  the  witches  of  Allway  Kirk  could  not  have  made 
such  a  weird  procession.  Well,  too,  for  old  Ichabod 
Crane  that  he  need  not  ride  that  night  through  the 
shadowy  Valley.  One  pumpkin,  in  the  hands  of  the 
headless  rider,  had  been  enough  to  banish  him  from 
Sleepy  Hollow  for  ever.  What  would  have  happened 
no  one  can  tell,  could  he  have  met  the  long  pro- 
cession of  bodiless  heads  that  straggled  through  the 
gate  that  Hallowe'en,  from  the  haunted  house  of 
Hartwell  Hollow. 


CHAPTER   XXL 

THE    HOME    OF   A    HERO. 

With  November  came  heavier  frosts  and  the  first 
light  snowfall  of  the  season,  a  skim  of  ice  on  the 
meadow-ponds,  shorter  days,  and  long  cheerful  even- 
ings around  the  library  fire.  More  than  that,  it 
brought  the  end  of  the  extra  home-lessons,  for  by 
this  time  the  Little  Colonel  had  not  only  caught 
up  wi?h  her  classes,  but  stood  at  the  head  of  most 
of  them. 

"I  think  she  deserves  a  reward  of  merit,"  said 
Papa  Jack  when  she  came  home  one  day,  proudly 
bearing  a  record  of  perfect  recitations  for  a  week. 
And  so  it  came  about  that  the  next  Friday  afternoon 
she  had  a  reward  of  her  own  choosing.  Allison, 
Kitty,  and  Elise  were  invited  out  to  stay  until 
Monday.  So  for  two  happy  days  four  little  girls 
raced  back  and  forth  under  the  bare  branches  of 
the  locusts,  where  usually  one  lonely  child  walked 
to  and  fro  by  herself.  And  because  the  daylight 
did  not  last  half  long  enough,  and  because  bedtime 

164 


THE  HOME   OF  A   HERO.  l6$ 

seemed  to  come  hours  too  soon,  they  were  invited  to 
come  out  next  week  also. 

"  It  is  almost  like  having  Betty  back  again  to  have 
Allison,"  Lloyd  confided  to  her  mother.  "  She  is  so 
sensible,  and  has  the  same  sweet  little  ways  that 
Betty  had  of  thinking  of  other  people's  pleasure  first. 
Sometimes  I  forget  and  call  her  Betty.  I  wish  they 
could  all  come  out  again  next  week." 

"  Have  you  looked  at  the  calendar  to  see  what 
comes  next  week,  Lloyd  ? " 

"  No,  mothah.    What  is  it  ?    Anybody's  birthday  ?  " 

"What  do  we  always  have  the  last  Thursday  in 
November  ? " 

"  Oh,  Thanksgiving !  "  exclaimed  Lloyd,  joyfully. 
"  Anothah  holiday  !     How  fast  they  come  !  " 

Usually  Thanksgiving  was  made  a  great  occasion 
at  Locust,  and  the  house  was  full  of  guests ;  but 
this  year  Mr.  Sherman  was  obliged  to  be  in  New 
York  all  week,  and  the  old  Colonel  was  in  Virginia. 
Lloyd  and  her  mother  were  planning  to  celebrate 
alone  when  Aunt  Jane  sent  for  them  to  spend  the 
Thanksgiving  vacation  with  her  in  town. 

Lloyd  never  enjoyed  her  visits  to  her  great-aunt 
Jane.  The  house  was  too  big  and  solemn  with  its 
dark  furniture  and  heavily  curtained  windows.  The 
chairs  were  all  so  tall  that  they  lifted  her  feet  high 


1 66  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

above  the  floor.  The  books  in  the  library  were  all 
heavy  volumes  with  dull,  hard  names  that  she  could 
not  pronounce.  The  tedious  hours  when  she  sat  in 
the  invalid's  dimly  lighted  room  and  listened  to  the 
details  of  her  many  ailments,  or  to  tales  of  people 
whom  she  had  never  seen,  seemed  endless. 

This  Thanksgiving  Day  it  was  unusually  cheerless. 
"  All  so  grown-up  and  grumbly !  "  thought  Lloyd. 
"  Seems  to  me  the  lesson  set  for  me  to  learn  on 
every  holiday  is  patience.  I'm  tiahed  of  being 
patient." 

Aunt  Jane  had  her  Thanksgiving  dinner  in  the 
middle  of  the  day.  Much  turkey  and  plum-pudding 
made  Lloyd  drowsy,  and  the  hour  that  followed  was 
a  stupid  one.  She  sat  motionless  in  a  big  velvet 
armchair  listening  to  more  of  Aunt  Jane's  long 
stories  of  unknown  people.  Now  and  then  she 
stifled  a  yawn,  wishing  with  all  her  heart  that 
she  could  change  places  with  the  little  newsboy, 
calling  papers  in  the  street  below  the  window,  or 
with  the  stumpy-tailed  dog  frisking  by  in  the  snow. 
She  fairly  ached  with  sitting  still  so  long,  and  won- 
dered how  her  mother  could  be  so  interested  in  all 
that  Aunt  Jane  was  telling.  She  could  have  clapped 
her  hands  for  joy  when  the  maid  broke  the  tedious- 
ness  of  the  hour  by  asking  Mrs.   Sherman  to  step 


THE  HOME   OF  A   HERO.  IbJ 

out  into  the  hall.  Mrs.  Walton  wanted  to  speak  to 
her  at  the  telephone. 

Lloyd  slipped  from  her  chair  and  followed  her 
mother  out  of  the  room,  thankful  for  any  excuse  to 
make  her  escape.  She  wished  she  could  hear  what 
Mrs.  Walton  was  saying,  instead  of  only  one  side  of 
the  conversation.  This  is  what  she  heard  her  mother 
say : 

"  Is  that  you,  Mary  ? " 

"  Yes  ;  we  came  in  for  the  Thanksgiving  holidays, 
and  expect  to  stay  until  Saturday  afternoon." 

"  A  Butterfly  Carnival  ?     How  lovely  !  " 

"No,  I  couldn't  possibly  leave  for  any  length  of 
time,  thank  you.  Aunt  Jane  is  counting  on  my 
staying  with  her ;  but  I'll  gladly  accept  for  Lloyd  if 
she  is  willing  to  stay  away  all  night  without  me. 
Wait  a  moment,  please,  I'll  ask  her." 

"  Lloyd,"  she  said,  turning  from  the  instrument, 
"Mrs.  Walton  has  just  telephoned  me  that  you  are 
included  in  the  invitation  that  Anna  Moore  has  given 
the  girls  to  the  Butterfly  Carnival  at  the  Opera 
House  to-morrow  afternoon.  It  is  for  the  benefit 
of  the  free  kindergarten  in  which  Mrs.  Moore  is 
interested,  and  she  has  taken  a  box  at  the  matinee 
for  Anna  and  her  friends.  Anna  is  going  to  give  a 
butterfly  luncheon  just  before  the  performance.    She 


1 68  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

heard  that  you  were  in  town  and  thought  that  you 
were  visiting  Allison,  so  she  called  at  Mrs.  Walton's 
to  invite  you.  Mrs.  Walton  has  asked  you  to  stay 
all  night  with  the  girls.     Would  you  like  to  go  ? " 

Mrs.  Sherman  could  not  help  laughing  at  the 
expression  of  delight  on  Lloyd's  face  as  she  began 
noiselessly  clapping  her  hands. 

"Oh,  if  it  wouldn't  be  rude  to  Aunt  Jane,"  she 
exclaimed,  in  a  whisper,  "  I'd  just  squeal,  I'm  so 
glad  to  get  out  of  this  dismal  place.  It  is  all  so 
grown-up  and  grumbly  heah,  and  a  Buttahfly  Cahnival 
has  such  a  delicious  sound." 

Mrs.  Sherman  turned  to  the  receiver  again,  and 
Lloyd  listened  eagerly  to  one  side  of  a  short  con- 
versation about  what  to  wear  and  when  to  go.  Then 
Mrs.  Sherman  hung  up  the  receiver,  saying,  "Allison 
and  Kitty  are  coming  for  you.  They  will  start  on 
the  next  car.  I'll  ask  Aunt  Jane  to  send  the  man 
over  with  your  clothes  in  a  little  while,  and  I'll  call 
in  the  morning." 

Twenty  minutes  later  two  bright  faces  smiled  up  at 
the  window,  two  little  muffs  waved  an  excited  greet- 
ing,  and  Kitty  and  Allison  ran  up  the  front  steps  to 
meet  the  Little  Colonel. 

"  We're  going  to  have  the  best  time  that  ever 
was,"  cried  Kitty.    "  Malcolm  and  Keith  and  Rob  arc 


THE  HOME   OF  A   HERO.  1 69 

invited,  too.  So  is  Ranald,  but  he  went  out  to 
grandmother's  directly  after  dinner  to-day.  He  said 
ne  wouldn't  miss  the  good  times  he'd  have  in  the 
country  for  forty  old  Butterfly  Carnivals.  But  the 
lunch  is  going  to  be  beautiful,  and  it  will  be  so  nice 
to  go  to  the  Carnival  afterward,  and  all  sit  in 
the  same  box." 

Mrs.  Sherman,  watching  from  an  upper  window, 
breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  as  she  saw  the  three  girls 
goingu  gaily  down  the  street  together.  She  knew 
that  Lloyd's  vacation  time  could  not  fail  to  be  a 
happy  one  if  spent  in  the  home  of  her  old  friend, 
Mary  Walton. 

"I  feel  so  queah,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  as  she 
followed  Kitty  and  Allison  into  the  house  and  up  the 
stairs  to  their  rooms.  "  It  is  just  as  if  some  one  had 
waved  a  wand,  and  said,  '  Presto  !  change  !  '  Only 
half  an  hour  ago  I  was  in  a  big  dark  house  that  was 
as  quiet  as  a  deaf  and  dumb  person.  But  heah, 
it  seems  as  if  the  very  walls  were  talkin',  and  I  can't 
take  a  step  without  seeing  something  curious.  I  am 
sure  that  there  is  a  story  about  that  Indian  toma- 
hawk and  peace-pipe  on  the  wall,  and  all  those  pretty 
thing's  hanging  ovah  the  doah." 

"There  is,"  answered  Allison,  pausing  to  point 
over  the  bannister  to  the  curios  arranged  in  the  hall 


I70  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

below.  "Papa  brought  them  back  from  that  Indian 
campaign,  when  he  was  out  so  long,  and  captured 
that  dreadful  old  Apache  chief,  Geronimo.  The 
things  in  that  other  corner  are  relics  of  the  Cuban 
War,  and  the  other  things  are  from  the  Philippines." 

Lloyd  lingered  a  moment  on  the  stairs,  leaning 
over  the  bannister  to  peep  into  the  library,  where 
a  flag,  a  portrait,  and  a  sword  shrined  the  memory  of 
one  of  the  nation's  best  beloved.  It  was  only  a 
glimpse  she  caught,  but  with  it  came  the  impressive 
thought  that  she  was  in  the  home  of  a  hero  ;  and 
a  queer  feeling,  that  she  could  not  understand,  surged 
over  her,  warm  and  tender.  It  was  as  if  she  were  in 
a  church  and  ought  to  tread  softly,  and  move  rever- 
ently in  such  a  presence. 

"  Come  on,"  called  Allison,  throwing  open  the 
door  into  her  room. 

"  How  different  this  is  from  the  Cuckoo's  Nest," 
was  Lloyd's  next  thought,  as  she  looked  about  the 
interesting  room,  filled  with  toys  and  souvenirs  from 
all  parts  of  the  world. 

"I'd  lots  rathah  look  at  these  things  than  play," 
she  said,  when  a  choice  of  entertainment  was  offered 
her.     "  Oh,  what  a  darling  book  !  " 

It  was  a  quaint  little  volume  of  Japanese  fairy 
tales  she  pounced  upon,   printed  on  queer,  crinkly 


THE  HOME  OF  A   HERO.  171 

paper,  with  pictures  of  amazing  dragons  and  brilliant 
birds,  such  as  only  the  Japanese  artists  can  paint. 
But  before  she  could  examine  that,  Kitty  had 
brought  her  a  tortoise-shell  jinrikisha,  and  Allison 
a  toy  Filipino  bed.  Elise  marshalled  out  a  whole 
colony  of  dolls,  from  Spanish  soldiers  to  fur-clad 
Esquimaux  babies.  Each  brought  out  her  special 
treasures,  and  all  talked  at  once.  They  piled  the 
floor  around  her  with  interesting  things,  they  filled 
her  lap,  they  covered  the  chairs  and  tables.  And  for 
every  article  there  was  an  interesting  tale  of  the  time 
or  place  where  it  had  come  into  their  possession. 

Outside  the  snow  began  to  fall  again.  The  electric 
cars  passed  and  repassed  with  whirr  and  rush  and 
clang.  The  short  winter  day  ended  in  sudden  dusk, 
and  the  maid  came  in  to  light  the  gas. 

"  Why,  how  could  it  get  dark  so  soon !  "  exclaimed 
Lloyd,  looking  up  in  surprise  as  she  suddenly  realised 
that  it  was  night.  "  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  that 
I  have  been  heah  any  time  at  all.  I  have  enjoyed  it 
so  much." 

After  the  big  Thanksgiving  dinner  nobody  was 
very  hungry,  but  they  all  followed  Mrs.  Walton  down 
to  the  dining-room  for  a  light  lunch.  Here  Lloyd 
found  herself  in  another  treasure-house  of  interesting 
things.     She   could   not   turn   her   head   without   a 


172  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

glimpse  of  something  to  arouse  her  curiosity,  the 
quaint  Chinese  ladle  on  the  sideboard,  the  gay  pro- 
cession of  elephants  and  peacocks  around  the  border 
6i  the  table-cover,  the  old  army  chest,  the  silver 
candlesticks  that  had  lighted  the  devotions  of  many  a 
Spanish  friar  in  the  gray  monasteries  of  Cuba,  and 
the  exquisite  needlework  of  the  nuns  of  far-away 
Luzon. 

Mrs.  Walton  was  the  tale-teller  now,  and  Lloyd 
listened  with  an  intense  eagerness  that  made  her 
dark  eyes  grow  more  starlike  than  ever,  and  brought 
the  delicate  wild-rose  pink  flushing  up  into  her 
cheeks. 

Seeing  what  pleasure  it  was  giving  her  little  guest, 
Mrs.  Walton  took  her  into  the  library  afterward  and 
opened  the  cabinets,  pointing  out  one  object  of  inter- 
est after  another.  But  the  things  that  pleased  Lloyd 
most  were  the  bells  in  the  hall.  Near  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  in  an  oaken  frame  placed  there  for  the 
purpose,  swung  three  Spanish  bells,  that  had  been 
presented  to  Mrs.  Walton  as  trophies  of  war.  They 
had  been  taken  from  different  church  towers  on  the 
island  of  Luzon,  by  the  Filipino  insurgents,  when 
they  were  sacking  the  villages  and  taking  everything 
before  them.  These  bells  had  been  captured  from 
the  insurgents  by  the  soldiers  of  the  general's  divi- 


THE  HOME   OF  A   HERO.  1 73 

sion.  A  thrill  went  through  the  Little  Colonel  as 
Mrs.  Walton  told  her  their  history,  and  swung  one  of 
the  great  iron  tongues  back  and  forth  till  the  hall 
echoed  with  the  clear  ringing. 

Several  times  during  the  evening  Lloyd  slipped  out 
into  the  hall  again  to  stand  before  these  mute  wit- 
nesses of  the  ravages  of  war,  and  tap  the  rims 
with  light  finger  tips.  She  tapped  so  lightly  that 
only  the  faintest  echo  sounded  in  the  hall,  but  from 
her  rapt  face  Mrs.  Walton  knew  that  the  note 
awakened  other  voices  in  the  Little  Colonel's  imagi- 
nation. She  had  known  Lloyd  ever  since  she  had 
gone  to  live  at  Locust,  and  she  remembered  the 
child's  quaint  habit  of  singing  to  herself. 

All  the  words  that  pleased  her  fancy  she  strung 
together  on  the  thread  of  a  soft  minor  tune,  in  a 
crooning  little  melody  of  her  own.  "  Oh,  the  butter- 
cups an'  daisies,"  she  had  heard  her  sing  one  time, 
standing  waist-high  in  a  field  of  nodding  bloom. 
"  Oh,  the  buttercups  an'  daisies,  all  white  an'  gold 
an'  yellow.  They're  all  a-smilin'  at  me !  All  a-sayin' 
howdy  !  howdy  !  " 

And  another  time  when  the  August  lilies,  stand- 
ing white  and  waxen  in  the  moonlight,  had  moved 
the  old  Colonel  to  speak  tenderly  of  the  wife  of 
his    youth,    Mrs.    Walton    had    seen   a    smile   cross 


174  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

his  face,  when  the  baby  voice,  unconscious  of  an 
ludience,  crooned  softly  from  the  door-step,  "  Oh, 
the  locus'-trees  a-blowin',  an'  the  stars  a-shinin' 
through  them,  an'  the  moonlight  an'  the  lilies,  an' 
Amanthis  !     An'  Amanthis  ! " 

Now,  curious  to  know  what  thoughts  the  bells 
were  awakening,  Mrs.  Walton  bent  her  head  to 
listen  as  the  Little  Colonel  chanted  to  herself  in  a 
half-whisper,  "  Oh,  the  bells,  the  bells  a-tolling,  and 
the  tales  they  ring  for  evah,  of  the  battle-flags  an' 
victory,  an'  their  hero !     An'  their  hero  !  " 

The  tears  sprang  to  Mrs.  Walton's  eyes  as  she 
listened  to  the  child's  interpretation  of  the  voices 
of  the  bells,  and  presently,  when  she  looked  up  and 
saw  Lloyd  standing  in  front  of  the  general's  portrait, 
gazing  reverently  into  the  brave,  calm  face,  she 
crossed  the  room  and  put  an  arm  around  her. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  in  a  con- 
fiding undertone,  "when  I  look  up  at  that,  I  know 
just  how  Betty  feels  when  she  writes  poetry.  She 
heahs  voices  inside,  and  thinks  things  too  beautiful 
to  find  words  for.  There's  something  in  his  face, 
and  about  that  sword  that  he  used  for  his  country, 
and  the  flag  that  he  followed,  and  the  bells  that 
ring  for  his  memory,  that  make  me  want  to  cry ; 
and  yet  there's  a  glad,  proud   feelin'   in  my  heart 


THE  HOME    OF  A    HERO.  1 75 

because  he  was  so  brave,  as  if  he  sort  or  belonged 
to  me,  too.  It  makes  me  wish  I  could  be  a  man, 
and  go  out  and  do  something  brave  and  grand. 
What  do  you  suppose  makes  me  feel  both  ways  at 
the  same  time  ? " 

"  It  is  a  part  of  patriotism,"  said  Mrs.  Walton, 
with  a  caressing  hand  on  her  hair. 

"I  didn't  know  I  had  any,"  said  Lloyd,  seriously, 
looking  up  with  wondering  eyes.  "  I  always  took 
grandfathah's  side,  you  know,  because  the  Yankees, 
shot  his  arm  off.  I  hated  'em  for  it,  and  I  nevah 
would  hurrah  for  the  Union.  I've  despised  Re- 
publicans and  the  Nawth  from  the  time  I  could 
talk." 

"Don't  say  that,  Lloyd,"  said  Mrs.  Walton,  still 
caressing  her  soft  hair.  "  What  have  we  to  do  with 
that  old  quarrel  ?  Its  time  has  long  gone  by.  I, 
too,  am  a  daughter  of  the  South,  Lloyd,  but  surely 
such  lives  as  his  have  not  been  sacrificed  in  vain." 
She  pointed  impressively  to  the  portrait.  "That, 
if  nothing  else,  would  make  me  want  to  forget  that 
North  and  South  had  ever  been  arrayed  against  each 
other.  Surely  such  lives  as  his  by  their  high  loyalty 
should  inspire  a  love  of  country  deep  enough  to 
make  America  the  guiding  star  of  the  nations." 

Bedtime  came  long  before  Lloyd  was  ready  for 


I76  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

it.  "  Do  you  want  to  tell  your  mother  good  night  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Walton,  stopping  at  the  telephone  as 
they  passed  through  the  upper  hall. 
'  "  Oh,  yes,"  cried  Lloyd.  "  How  different  it  is 
from  the  Cuckoo's  Nest.  You  can't  get  homesick 
when  you  know  you're  at  one  end  of  a  wiah,  and 
yo'  mothah  is  at  the  othah." 

Mrs.  Walton  called  up  Aunt  Jane's  number,  and, 
putting  the  receiver  into  Lloyd's  hand,  passed  on 
into  her  room. 

"Oh,  mothah,"  Allison  heard  her  say,  "it's  like 
livin'  in  that  fairy  tale,  where  everything  in  the 
picture  was  made  alive.  Don't  you  remembah  ? 
The  birds  sang,  and  the  fishe"  ?wam,  and  the  rivah 
ran.  Everything  in  the  picture  acted  as  if  it  were 
alive  and  out  of  its  frame.  Everything  in  the  house 
talks,  for  it  has  a  story  of  its  own.  All  the  family 
have  been  tellin'  me  stories,  and  I've  had  a  lovely 
Thanksgiving  Day." 

There  was  a  long  pause  while  Mrs.  Sherman 
answered,  then  Allison  heard  Lloyd's  voice  again. 

"  The  lesson  is  a  beautiful  one  this  time.  It 
isn't  patience  any  moah.  It  is  Patriotism.  Good 
night.  Can  you  catch  a  kiss  ?  Heah  it  is."  Allison 
heard  the  noise  of  her  lips,  and  then  a  laughing  good 
night  as  she  hung  up  the  receiver. 


THE   HOME    OF  A   HERO.  Iff 

They  often  had  what  they  called  night-gown 
parties  at  the  Waltons,  and  they  had  one  that  night, 
when  they  were  all  ready  for  bed.  The  little  group 
of  white-robed  figures  gathered  on  the  hearth  rug  at 
Mrs.  Walton's  feet,  counting  their  causes  for  thank- 
fulness, and  chattering  sociably  of  many  things. 
Presently,  across  the  merry  conversation,  fell  a  recol- 
lection that  rested  on  Lloyd's  mind  like  a  shadow. 
She  remembered  Molly  in  her  bare  little  bedroom 
over  the  kitchen,  at  the  Cuckoo's  Nest.  Poor  little 
Molly,  who  could  never  know  a  happy  Thanksgiving 
so  long  as  Dot  was  away  from  her ! 

Here  was  shelter  and  home-light  and  mother-love, 
but  Molly  had  none  of  the  latter  to  be  thankful 
for.  Lloyd  could  not  drive  away  the  thought,  and 
when  there  came  a  pause  in  the  conversation  she 
began  telling  Molly's  story  to  her  interested  listeners. 
It  had  the  same  effect  on  them  that  it  had  on  Joyce 
and  Eugenia,  and  presently  Allison  slipped  down  to 
the  library  to  bring  up  a  volume  of  bound  magazines 
that  the  girls  might  see  the  picture  that  reminded 
Molly  of  Dot. 

The  grief  of  the  poor  little  waif  seemed  very  real 
to  Elise,  who  hung  over  the  picture,  calling  attention 
to  every  detail  of  the  shabby  room.  "Look  at  the 
old    broken    stool,"   she   said,    "and    her   thin   little 


1/8  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

arms.  And  her  shoes  are  all  worn  out,  too.  I 
wish  she  had  a  pair  of  mine." 

Long  after  she  was  tucked  away  in  her  little 
white  bed  she  called  out  through  the  darkness, 
"  Mamma,  do  you  s'pose  Dot  knows  how  to  say  her 
prayers  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,  darling,"  came  the  answer.  "  It 
has  been  a  long  time  since  she  had  any  one  to 
teach  her."  There  was  a  pause,  then  another  whis- 
pered call. 

"  Mamma,  do  you  s'pose  it  would  do  any  good  if 
I'd  say  them  for  her  ? " 

"  Yes,  love,  I  am  sure  it  would." 

There  was  a  rustling  of  bedclothes.  Two  bare 
feet  struck  the  floor,  and  Elise  knelt  down  in  the 
dark,  saying,  softly: 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep, 
I  pray  thee,  Lord,  her  soul  to  keep. 
If  she  should  die  before  I  wake, 
I  pray  thee,  Lord,  my  soul  to  take. 

Please.  God,  help  poor  little  lost  Dot  to  get  back 
to  her  sister.  Amen.  There,  I  guess  he'll  know, 
even  \l  it  did  sound  sort  of  mixed  up,"  she  said, 
climbing  back  to  bed  with  a  sigh  of  mingled  relief 
and   satisfaction. 


THE  HOME   OF  A   HERO.  1 79 

"That's  the  kind  he  loves  best,  little  one,"  said 
her  mother,  coming  into  the  room  to  tuck  her  in 
once  more.  "  It  doesn't  make  any  difference  about 
the  pronouns.  The  more  we  mix  our  neighbours 
with  ourselves  m  our  prayers,  tne  better  he  is 
pleased." 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE    DAY    AFTER    THANKSGIVING. 

"  There  !  You  are  ready  at  last !  "  said  Mra 
Sherman,  as  she  finished  buttoning  Lloyd's  gloves, 
and  fastened  the  jewelled  clasp  of  her  long  party 
cloak.  She  had  come  over  to  help  the  Little 
Colonel  dress  for  the  Butterfly  Luncheon  at  Anna 
Moore's. 

Feeling  very  elegant  in  her  unusual  party  array, 
Lloyd  surveyed  herself  in  the  mirror  with  a  satisfied 
air,  and  sat  down  beside  Allison  to  wait  for  the 
carriage  that  Mrs.  Moore  had  promised  to  send  for 
them.  Mrs.  Walton  was  tying  Kitty's  sash,  and 
in  the  next  room  Elise  was  buzzing  around  like 
an  excited  little  bee. 

"  Hold  still !  Do  now  !  "  they  heard  Milly  say, 
impatiently.  "  I'll  never  get  the  tangles  brushed  out 
of  your  curls,  and  the  others  will  go  off  and  leave 
you,  and  you'll  have  to  miss  the  party." 

Presently  there  was  a  long  protesting  wail  from 
Elise.     "  Oh,  Milly,  what  did  you  put  that  ribbon  on 


'THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.      *     l8l 

my  hair  for?  It  isn't  pink  enough  to  match  my 
stockings." 

"  There's  scarcely  any  difference  at  all  in  the 
shades,"  answered  Milly.  "  Sure  it  would  take  a 
microscope  to  tell,  even  if  they  were  side  by  side, 
and  your  head  is  too  far  away  from  your  heels  for 
anybody  to  notice." 

"  Oh,  but  it  won't  do  at  all  ! "  cried  Elise,  break- 
ing away  from  her  to  run  into  the  next  room.  "  See, 
mamma,  they  don't  match."  In  her  eagerness  Elise 
leaned  over,  bending  herself  like  a  little  acrobat,  till 
the  pink  bow  on  her  hair  was  on  a  level  with  the 
pink  silk  stockings. 

"  There's  barely  a  shade  difference,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Walton.  "The  difference  is  so  slight  that  nobody 
will  notice  it  unless  you  expect  to  double  up  occasion- 
ally like  a  jack-knife  and  call  attention  to  it." 

"  Of  course  I  don't  expect  to  do  that,"  said  Elise, 
with  such  a  funny  little  air  of  injured  dignity  that 
her  mother  caught  her  up  with  a  hasty  kiss.  "  You're 
a  dear  little  peacock,  even  if  you  do  think  too  much 
of  your  fine  feathers.  But  you  can't  stop  to  make  a 
fuss  about  your  ribbons  now.  It  would  be  making 
a  mountain  out  of  a  mole-hill.  Run  back  to  Milly 
for  your  hat.  I  hear  the  carriage  stopping  out 
in  front." 


1 82  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  What  a  lot  of  things  I'll  have  to  write  about 
in  my  next  letter  to  the  girls,"  thought  Lloyd, 
as  they  rolled  along  in  the  carriage  a  few  minutes 
later.  "Joyce  and  Betty  will  like  to  hear  about 
the  general's  home  and  all  the  interesting  things 
in  it,  and  Eugenia  will  enjoy  this  part  of  my  visit 
most." 

It  was  with  a  view  to  impressing  Eugenia  with  the 
elegance  of  her  friends,  that  Lloyd  noticed  every 
detail  of  the  beautiful  luncheon.  She  intended  that 
Eugenia  should  hear  about  it  all.  Gay  butterflies,  so 
lifelike  that  one  could  not  believe  that  human  hands 
had  made  them,  were  poised  everywhere,  on  the 
flowers,  the  candle-shades,  the  curtains.  The  menu 
cards  were  decorated  with  them,  the  fine  hand-painted 
china  bore  swarms  of  them  around  their  dainty  rims, 
and  even  the  ices  were  moulded  to  represent  them. 
The  little  hostess  herself,  fluttering  around  among 
her  guests  as  gracefully  as  if  she  too  were  a 
winged  creature,  wore  a  gauzy  dress  of  palest  blue, 
embroidered  in  butterflies,  and  there  were  butterflies 
caught  here  and  there  in  her  golden  curls. 

The  Little  Colonel  could  scarcely  eat  for  admiring 
her.  She  felt  very  elegant  and  grown  up  to  be 
the  guest  at  such  an  entertainment,  and  as  she  took 
ber  place  at  the  table  between  Malcolm  and  Rob,  she 


THE    BUTTERFLY    CARNIVAL. 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 83 

wished  with  all  her  heart  that  Eugenia  could  peep  in 
and  see  her. 

It  was  time  to  start  to  the  Butterfly  Carnival 
almost  immediately  when  luncheon  was  over,  and 
again  Lloyd  felt  very  elegant  and  grown  up  rolling 
along  in  the  carriage  to  the  matinee.  Mrs.  Moore 
ushered  the  party  into  the  box  she  had  taken  for 
Anna  and  her  little  friends,  and  more  than  one  per- 
son in  the  audience  turned  to  ask  his  neighbour, 
"  Who  are  those  lovely  children  ?  Did  you  ever  see 
such  handsome  boys  ?  They  have  such  charming- 
manners.  It  is  like  a  scene  from  some  old  court- 
play."  The  Little  Colonel,  sitting  beside  Anna,  with 
the  two  little  knights  leaning  forward  to  talk  to  her, 
to  pick  up  her  fan,  or  adjust  her  lorgnette,  was  all 
unconscious  that  any  one  in  the  audience  was  watch- 
ing her  admiringly,  but  she  wished  again  that  Eu- 
genia could  see  her. 

When  the  curtain  went  up  the  scene  on  the  stage 
was  so  absorbing  that  she  forgot  Eugenia.  She  for- 
got where  she  was,  for  the  play  carried  her  bodily 
into  fairy-land.  The  queen  of  the  fairies  was  there 
with  her  star-tipped  wand  and  all  her  spangled  court, 
and  Lloyd  looked  and  listened  with  breathless  atten- 
tion, while  the  naughty  Puck  played  pranks  on  all 
the  butterflies,  and,  finally  catching  them  at  play  in 


1 84  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

a  moonlighted  forest,  took  all  the  gauzy-winged  crea- 
tures captive.  It  was  as  entrancing  as  looking  into  a 
living  fairy  tale,  and  when  at  last  the  queen  released 
the  prisoners  with  a  wave  of  her  star-tipped  wand,  and 
to  the  soft  notes  of  the  violins,  the  butterflies  danced 
off  the  stage,  Lloyd  drew  a  long  breath  and  came 
down  to  earth  with  a  sigh.  She  could  have  listened 
gladly  for  hours  more. 

But  the  curtain  was  down,  the  people  were  rising 
all  over  the  house,  and  Keith  was  holding  her  party 
cloak  for  her  to  slip  into.  Mrs.  Moore  turned  to 
Allison. 

"  Elise  is  wild  to  see  behind  the  scenes,"  she  said. 
"  I  am  going  to  keep  her  with  me  a  little  while. 
Your  cousin  Malcolm  says  that  he  and  Keith  can 
take  you  home  in  their  carriage  with  Lloyd  and 
Kitty.  So  I'll  send  Anna  and  Rob  home  in  mine 
and  wait  here  until  it  comes  back.  Tell  your  mother 
I'll  take  good  care  of  Elise  and  bring  her  home  as 
soon  as  I  attend  to  my  little  proteges  behind  the 
scene." 

Many  of  the  children  who  had  taken  part  in  the 
performance  were  from  the  free  kindergarten,  and 
Elise,  holding  fast  to  Mrs.  Moore's  hand,  watched  the 
transformation  behind  the  scenes,  from  gauzy  wings 
to  gingham  gowns,  with  wondering  eyes. 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 85 

"  It  is  like  when  Cinderella  lost  her  glass  slipper," 
she  said.  "  The  clock  struck  twelve,  and  her  silks 
turned  to  rags." 

All  the  glitter  and  glory  of  fairy-land  had  disap- 
peared  with  the  footlights.  In  the  wintry  light  of 
the  late  afternoon,  some  of  the  faces  were  pitifully 
thin  and  wan. 

"  Here  are  three  little  butterflies  that  must  go 
back  home  and  be  grubs  again,"  said  Mrs.  Moore,  as 
she  beckoned  to  the  children  whom  she  had  promised 
to  take  home  in  her  carriage.  Elise  looked  at  them, 
wondering  if  it  could  be  possible  that  they  were  the 
same  children,  who,  fifteen  minutes  before,  had  looked 
so  radiantly  beautiful  in  their  spangled  costumes  on 
the  stage.  They  were  shy  little  things  who  could 
scarcely  find  words  to  answer  Mrs.  Moore's  questions, 
but  they  seemed  to  enjoy  the  drive  in  the  warm 
closed  carriage,  behind  the  team  of  prancing  bays. 

Elise  chatted  on  gaily,  telling  Mrs.  Moore  how 
much  she  had  enjoyed  the  carnival,  how  she  had 
admired  the  fairy  queen,  and  how  she  longed  for  a 
real  live  fairy.  She  had  looked  for  them  often  in 
the  morning-glories  and  the  lily-bells.  If  she  could 
find  one  maybe  it  would  tell  her  where  to  look  for 
Dot. 

Presently  they  turned  into  a  side  street  among 


1 86  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

unfamiliar  tenement-houses,  and  paused  at  an  alley 
entrance. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  with  the  chil- 
dren," said  Mrs.  Moore,  preparing  to  step  out  of  the 
carriage.  "  I  want  to  inquire  about  the  baby,  who  is 
sick.     I'll  be  back  in  a  moment,  Elise." 

As  the  carriage  door  closed  behind  her  she  spoke 
to  the  coachman.  "Wait  here  a  moment,  Dickson." 
The  man  on  the  box  touched  his  hat  and  then  turned 
his  fur  collar  higher  around  his  ears.  There  was  a 
cold  wind  whistling  through  the  alley.  Elise  pressed 
her  face  against  the  glass  and  looked  out  into  the 
wintry  street.  Mrs.  Moore's  moment  stretched  out 
into  five.  The  baby  up-stairs  was  worse,  and  she  was 
making  a  list  of  the  many  things  it  needed  for  its 
comfort. 

There  was  little  of  interest  to  watch  from  the  car- 
riage window.  Few  people  were  passing  along  the 
narrow  pavement,  and  Elise  wondered  impatiently 
why  Mrs.  Moore  did  not  come.  Presently,  down  the 
street  came  a  ragged  child  with  its  arm  held  up  over 
its  eyes,  sobbing  and  sniffling  as  it  shuffled  along  in 
a  pair  of  wornout  shoes  many  sizes  too  large  for  its 
little  feet. 

Elise's  heart  gave  a  great  thump,  and  she  started 
forward  eagerly. 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 8/ 

"Molly's  little  lost  sister!"  she  exclaimed  aloud. 
u  It  must  be,  for  she  looks  just  like  the  girl  in  the 
picture.     Oh,  I  must  call  her  !  " 

She  was  fumbling  at  the  knob  of  the  carriage  door, 
but  before  she  could  get  it  open,  the  child  turned  and 
started  up  the  dirty  alley,  still  sobbing  aloud,  with  her 
arm  over  her  face. 

"  Oh,  I  must  call  her  back,"  thought  Elise. 
"Everybody  will  be  so  glad  if  she  is  found.  I 
mustn't  let  her  get  away." 

It  took  all  her  strength  to  turn  the  knob,  but  with 
another  desperate  wrench  she  got  the  door  open,  and 
climbed  out  to  the  pavement.  The  coachman,  half 
asleep  in  his  great  fur  collar  and  heavy  lap-robes,  did 
not  hear  the  tap  of  the  little  pink  boots,  as  she  ran 
up  the  dark  alley  between  the  high,  rickety  buildings, 
with  their  bad  smells  and  dirty  sewers. 

"Oh,  she  is  going  so  fast!"  panted  Elise.  "I'll 
never  catch  up  with  her ! "  The  pretty  pink  boots 
were  wet  and  snowy  now,  the  silk  stockings  splashed 
with  muddy  water.  Her  big  velvet  hat  was  tipped 
over  one  eye  and  her  curls  were  blowing  in  tangles 
over  the  wide  collar  of  her  fur-trimmed  cloak.  But 
forgetting  all  about  her  fine  feathers,  she  ran  on, 
around  corners,  into  strange  passages,  across  un- 
familiar  streets,  following  the  flutter  of  a  tattered 


1 88         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL  S  HOLIDAYS. 

gown.  All  of  a  sudden  she  paused,  looking  around 
in  bewilderment.  The  child  she  was  following  had 
disappeared. 

With  a  bitter  sense  of  disappointment  swelling  in 
her  little  heart,  she  turned  to  go  back  to  the  carriage, 
and  then  stood  still  in  bewilderment.  She  could  not 
tell  which  way  she  had  come.  She  was  lost  herself  ! 
For  a  few  minutes  the  little  pink  boots  trudged 
bravely  on,  then  the  tears  began  to  gather  in  her  big 
black  eyes. 

"  They'll  feel  so  bad  at  home,"  she  thought, 
"when  they  hunt  and  hunt  and  can't  find  me  any- 
where. Oh,  what  if  I'd  stay  lost,  and  get  to  look 
all  ragged  and  dirty  like  Dot,  and  just  have  to  stand 
in  a  corner  and  cry.  If  there  was  any  nice  stores 
along  here,  I'd  go  in  and  ask  the  man  to  send  me 
home,  but  these  places  look  so  dreadful  I'm  afraid." 

She  was  in  a  disreputable  part  of  the  town,  where 
second-hand  clothing  stores  and  pawn-shops  were 
crowded  in  between  saloons  and  cheap  restaurants, 
and  she  dared  not  venture  into  any  of  them  to  ask 
for  help.  Little  as  she  was,  she  felt  that  she  was 
safer  on  the  streets  than  inside  those  crowded,  dirty 
quarters,  where  half-drunken  negroes  and  coarse, 
brawling  white  men  quarrelled  and  swore  in  loud 
tones. 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 89 

"It's  the  saloons  that  brought  all  the  trouble  to 
Molly  and  Dot,"  thought  Elise,  shrinking  away  from 
a  group  of  noisy  loafers,  as  they  straggled  out  of  one. 
"  They  made  their  father  mean  and  their  mother  die 
and  their  grandmother  go  crazy  and  them  lose  each 
other.  They're  worse  than  wild  beasts,  and  I'm  afraid 
of  'em.  Maybe  if  I  walk  far  enough  I'll  come  to  a  nice 
policeman,  but  I'm  so  tired  now."  Her  lip  quivered 
as  she  whispered  the  words.  "  Oh,  it  seems  as  if 
I'd  drop !     And  I'm  so  cold  I  am  nearly  frozen." 

As  she  walked  on,  across  her  way  an  electric  arch 
suddenly  shot  its  cold  white  light  into  the  street. 
Then  another  and  another  appeared,  and  as  far  as 
she  could  see  in  any  direction  the  streets  were  bril- 
liantly illuminated. 

"  Oh,  it's  night !  "  she  sobbed.  "  I'll  freeze  to 
death  before  morning  if  somebody  doesn't  come  and 
find  me." 

Still  she  dragged  on,  growing  more  tired  and 
frightened  at  every  step,  until  she  could  walk  no 
longer.  At  the  end  of  a  long  block  she  sat  down  on 
a  doorstep,  and  huddled  up  in  one  corner  out  of  the 
wind.  A  dismal  picture  came  to  her  mind  of  the  little 
match-seller  in  Hans  Andersen's  fairy  tales.  The 
little  match-seller  who  had  frozen  to  death  on  Christ- 
mas eve,  on  the  threshold  of  somebody's  happy  home. 


I90  THE   LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  She  had  a  box  of  matches  to  warm  herself  with," 
sobbed  Elise.  "  I  haven't  even  that.  Oh,  it's  awful 
to  be  lost !  " 

With  the  tears  trickling  down  her  face  she  pictured 
to  herself  the  grief  of  the  family  in  case  they  should 
never  find  her. 

"  Mamma  will  stand  in  the  doer  and  look  out  into 
the  dark  and  call  and  call,  but  her  little  Elise  will 
never  answer.  And  Allison  and  Kitty  will  feel  so 
bad  that  they  won't  want  to  play.  They'll  divide  my 
things  between  them  to  remember  me  by,  and  for  a 
long  time  it'll  make  them  cry  whenever  they  see  my 
dolls  and  books,  or  my  place  at  the  table,  or  my  little 
wicker  chair  in  the  library,  that  I'll  never  sit  in  any 
more.  Ranald  won't  cry,  'cause  he's  a  captain  and 
he's  brave.  But  he'll  be  just  as  sorry.  Oh,  I  wish 
Ranald  wasn't  out  in  the  country !  He  could  find 
me  if  he  was  at  home." 

It  was  growing  colder  and  colder  on  the  doorstep. 
The  child's  teeth  chattered  and  her  lips  were  blue. 
Still  she  sat  there,  until  an  evil-looking  man  in  the 
next  house  slouched  out  on  to  the  street  with  a  lean 
spotted  dog  at  his  heels.  Suddenly,  for  no  reason 
that  Elise  could  discover,  for  she  did  not  know  that 
he  was  half  drunk,  he  turned  and  kicked  the  poor 
beast,  cursing  it  violently.     It  shrank  away,  yelping 


run.   LtAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  191 

with  pain.  Seeing  that  the  man  was  coming  toward 
her,  Elise  sprang  up  in  terror,  and  with  one  frightened 
glance  over  her  shoulder,  darted  around  the  corner. 
Once  out  of  his  sight,  she  stopped  running,  but 
fear  kept  her  moving,  and  she  walked  wearily  on 
and  on.  Every  step  carried  her  farther  away  from 
home. 

Through  unwashed  windows  she  could  see  the 
yellow  lamplight  streaming  over  dingy  rooms.  Most 
of  the  sights  were  unattractive,  but  in  one  house, 
cleaner  than  the  rest,  she  saw  a  crowd  of  clamouring 
children  seated  around  a  supper-table,  all  reaching 
their  spoons  and  plates  toward  a  big  steaming  platter 
in  the  middle.  It  reminded  her  that  she  was  hungry 
herself,  and  she  lingered  a  moment,  looking  wistfully 
in  at  the  cheerful  scene.  Then  on  she  started 
again.  Once  she  stumbled  and  fell  in  the  slush  of  a 
snowy  crossing,  but  scrambled  bravely  up  again, 
walking  on  and  on. 

Meanwhile  Allison,  Kitty,  and  the  Little  Colonel, 
who  had  gone  ahead  in  the  carriage  with  the  boys, 
had  stopped  at  Klein's  for  a  box  of  candy,  and  at  a 
book  store  for  a  dissected  game  they  had  been  dis- 
cussing at  the  luncheon.  When  they  reached  Mrs. 
Walton's,  Malcolm  sent  the  carriage  home,  and  both 
the  boys  went  into  the  house  with  the  girls. 


192  THE  LITTLE  COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  Tell  mamma  we'll  come  up-stairs  in  a  few  minute* 
and  tell  her  all  about  the  carnival,"  said  Allison  to 
the  maid  who  opened  the  door. 

The  five  children  went  into  the  library  with  their 
candy  and  game,  and  Mrs.  Walton,  busy  with  many 
letters,  did  not  notice  how  Allison's  few  minutes 
lengthened  out,  until  it  grew  so  dark  that  she  had  to 
lay  down  her  pen.  As  she  did  so,  a  carriage  drove 
rapidly  up  to  the  house,  Mrs.  Moore  hurried  up  the 
steps,  and  there  was  a  hasty  dialogue  at  the  door 
between  her  and  Allison. 

Mrs.  Walton,  did  not  hear  the  frightened  cry, 
"Oh,  mamma!  Elise  is  lost!"  that  went  up  from 
Allison.  And  impetuous  Kitty,  hearing  no  answer, 
and  feeling  that  she  must  summon  help  in  some 
way,  began  beating  madly  on  the  bells  of  Luzon, 
as  if  she  were  trying  to  call  out  the  whole  fire 
department. 

As  the  clangour  startled  her,  Mrs.  Walton's  first 
thought  was  that  the  house  must  be  on  fire,  and  she 
hurried  out  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  and  looked  over 
the  bannister.  Kitty  was  still  beating  on  the  bells 
with  an  umbrella  that  she  had  snatched  from  the 
rack. 

"Stop,  Kitty!"  she  called.  "Tell  me  what  is 
the  matter  ? " 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 93 

"  Elise  is  lost !  "  repeated  Allison,  and  Mrs.  Wal- 
ton, with  a  white  face,  hurried  down  to  hear  Mrs. 
Moore's  explanation. 

She  had  been  detained  some  time  in  the  tenement- 
house,  listening  to  the  tale  of  woe  that  the  sick 
baby's  mother  poured  out  to  her;  but  she  had  felt 
no  uneasiness  about  Elise,  knowing  that  the  foot- 
stove  in  the  carriage  would  keep  her  warm  and 
comfortable.  When  she  came  down,  to  her  utter 
amazement  the  carriage  door  stood  open,  and  the 
child  was  gone. 

The  sleepy  coachman,  who  roused  himself  from 
his  cold  doze  when  he  heard  her  coming,  was  as  sur- 
prised as  she,  and  declared  he  had  not  heard  the 
carriage  door  open  or  the  child  slip  out.  He  had  no 
idea  what  could  have  become  of  her.  They  made 
inquiries  of  people  all  along  the  block,  but  nobody 
had  seen  a  child  answering  to  the  description  of  Elise. 
Then  Mrs.  Moore  thought  that  the  child  must  have 
grown  tired  of  waiting,  and  for  some  reason  had 
started  to  walk  home.  She  had  driven  out  to  the 
house  with  the  hope  that  she  might  find  her  there, 
or  might  overtake  her  on  the  way. 

Mrs.  Walton  acted  quickly.  "Telephone  to  your 
father,  Malcolm,"  she  cried,  "and  to  the  police  sta- 
tion.    Oh,  my  poor  baby,  out  in  the  cold  streets  with 


194  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

night  coming  on.  I  must  look  for  her  without  los- 
ing a  minute." 

She  started  up  the  stairs  to  call  Milly  help  her 
dress  for  the  search.  "  Get  my  furs,"  she  called, 
"and  my  heaviest  coat.  It  will  be  a  cold  night." 
But  Malcolm  stopped  her. 

"  Don't  go,  Aunt  Mary,"  he  cried.  "  Papa  is  on 
his  way  here  now,  and  we  boys  will  go  in  your  place. 
The  policemen  are  being  notified  all  over  the  city, 
and  it  will  do  more  good  for  you  to  stay  here  ready 
to  answer  any  questions  that  may  come." 

"  I'll  wait  until  Mr.  Maclntyre  comes,"  said  Mrs. 
Moore,  "  so  that  I  can  take  him  straight  back  to  that 
tenement  district  if  he  thinks  best  to  go." 

While  they  were  still  standing,  an  anxious  little 
group  in  the  hall,  Mr.  Maclntyre  came  in,  and  after 
a  hurried  consultation  he  and  Mrs.  Moore  drove  in 
one  direction,  and  the  boys  started  in  another. 

None  of  them  like  to  remember  the  three  hours 
that  followed.  The  news  spread  like  wild-fire,  and 
the  telephone  bell  rang  constantly  with  friendly  mes- 
sages. Each  time  they  hoped  that  some  one  of  the 
searching  party  was  calling  them  up,  but  each  time 
they  were  disappointed.  At  intervals  one  of  the 
girls  stole  to  the  front  door  to  look  out  into  the  night 
and  listen.      Every  voice   made   them   start,  every 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  195 

footstep.  Every  roll  of  carriage  wheels  along  the 
avenue  made  them  hold  their  breath  in  suspense 
until  it  had  passed. 

Presently,  Kitty,  leaving  her  mother  at  the  tele- 
phone, and  Allison  and  Lloyd  on  the  stairs,  strolled 
down  to  the  kitchen,  where  Milly  and  the  cook  were 
talking  about  Charlie  Ross  and  all  the  children  they 
had  ever  heard  of  who  had  mysteriously  disappeared 
from  home. 

"An'  it's  just  the  loikes  av  her  they'd  be  afther 
taking,"  said  the  cook,  wiping  her  eyes.  "  She  was 
that  pretty  wid  her  long  currls,  an'  eyes  shparklin' 
loike  black  dimonts,  an'  her  swate  little  mouth  wid 
its  smile  fit  for  a  cherub.  I  moind  the  very  last 
toime  I  saw  her.  Only  this  afthernoon  she  coom 
down  here  to  show  me  her  foine  clothes  she  was 
wearin'  to  the  parrty.  There's  no  doubt  in  me 
moind  but  that  somebody's  stolen  her  on  account 
av  them  same  illigent  clothes.  Mebbe  they  think 
there'll  be  a  big  reward  offered.  Bless  the  two  little 
pink  shoes  av  her !  It'll  be  a  sorry  day  for  this 
house  if  they  niver  coom  walking  into  it  again." 

Kitty  stole  out  of  the  kitchen  cold  with  this  new 
horror,  and  went  back  to  whisper  it  to  Allison  and 
Lloyd,  as  they  sat  on  the  stairs  ready  to  spring  for 
ward  at  the  first  sound  of  coming  footsteps. 


I96  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  Now  if  it  had  been  Allison  who  was  lost,"  thought 
Mrs.  Walton,  "she  could  have  found  her  way  home 
without  any  difficulty.  She  is  such  a  sensible, 
womanly  child,  always  to  be  trusted  for  doing  the 
right  thing  in  the  right  place.  Kitty  might  not  act  so 
wisely,  but  she  would  bang  ahead  and  come  out  all 
right  in  the  end.  She  is  the  kind  one  might  expect 
to  see  come  home  in  almost  any  style,  from  a  coal 
cart  to  a  triumphal  car.  But  my  baby  Elise  is  so 
little  and  so  timid,  my  heart  aches  for  her.  She  will 
be  so  sorely  frightened." 

Dinner  was  put  on  the  table  and  carried  out  again. 
Nobody  could  eat,  and  as  the  moments  dragged  by 
the  girls  still  sat  on  the  stairs,  and  the  anxious  mother 
sprang  to  the  telephone  at  every  tinkle  of  the  bell, 
praying  for  a  hopeful  message  from  the  police- 
station. 

Elise,  stumbling  on  down  strange  streets,  exhausted, 
hungry,  and  cold,  stopped  on  a  street  corner  and 
looked  around  her.  She  had  strayed  down  among 
the  warehouses  now,  and  the  little  feet,  numb  with 
cold,  were  too  tired  to  go  much  farther.  Down  here 
few  people  were  passing.  A  big  tobacco  warehouse, 
looming  up  tall  and  dark  above  her,  made  her  feel  so 
tiny  and  lost,  that  the  last  bit  of  her  courage  ebbed 
away,  and  she  began  to  sob  aloud, 


THE  DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 97 

Out  of  the  shadow  just  ahead  a  man  was  coming 
toward  her.  So  tall  and  broad-shouldered  he  looked, 
that  he  seemed  a  giant  to  her  terrified  eyes.  She 
put  her  little  gloved  hands  over  her  eyes  to  shut  out 
the  sight,  and  crouched  close  against  the  wall,  her 
baby  heart  fluttering  like  a  frightened  bird's. 

On  he  came,  with  slow,  heavy  tread,  his  footsteps 
ringing  through  the  silent  street  with  a  strange 
metallic  echo.  As  he  passed  out  from  the  black 
shadow  of  the  warehouse,  into  the  light  of  the  street- 
crossing,  Elise  peeped  between  her  fingers  again,  and 
then  smiled  through  her  tears.  It  was  a  big,  burly 
policeman. 

The  next  instant  she  was  running  toward  him, 
calling,  "  Oh,  Mister  Policeman,  I'm  lost !  Please 
take  me  home !  " 

It  was  a  safe  haven  she  had  run  into.  The  police- 
man had  just  come  from  home  to  go  on  his  beat,  and 
in  a  little  cottage  not  many  blocks  away  were  three 
children  who  were  still  in  his  thoughts.  They  had 
followed  him  to  the  door  to  swarm  over  him  and  kiss 
him,  and  had  called  after  him  down  the  snowy  street, 
"  Good  night,  daddy  !  "  The  childish  voices  were  still 
ringing  in  his  ears. 

As  tenderly  as  if  she  had  been  one  of  his  own,  he 
lifted  Elise  in  his  strong,  fatherly  arms,  wiped  her 


198         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

tear-stained  face,  and  began  to  question  her.  She 
told  him  her  name,  but  in  her  confusion  could  not 
remember  the  name  of  the  street  where  she  lived. 

It  was  the  work  of  only  a  moment  to  carry  her  into 
a  drug-store  around  the  corner,  ring  up  headquarters, 
and  report  his  discovery,  and  it  was  only  a  few 
moments  after  that  until  they  were  on  an  electric 
car,  homeward  bound. 

Elise  was  not  the  first  lost  child  the  big,  tender- 
hearted policeman  had  taken  home,  but  he  had  never 
had  such  a  royal  welcome  as  the  one  that  awaited 
him  in  the  hall  when  the  joyful  family  met  him. 

He  glanced  around  him  curiously,  seeing  on  every 
side  the  relics  of  victorious  battle-fields,  the  grim 
weapons  of  warfare  that  stood  as  mute  witnesses  of  a 
brave  soldier's  life.  Beyond  in  the  library  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  the  portrait,  the  flag,  and  the  sword,  and 
then  suddenly  realised  in  whose  presence  he  stood. 

"Don't  mention  it,  madam,"  he  said,  awkwardly,  as 
the  grateful  mother  tried  to  express  her  thanks. 
"  Don't  you  know  that  this  is  about  the  proudest 
moment  of  my  life  ?  To  know  that  it  was  his  little 
one  I  found,  and  brought  back  with  her  arms  around 
my  neck !  I  read  everything  there  was  about  him  in 
the  papers  (he  nodded  toward  the  portrait),  and  I 
always  did  say  he  was  exactly  my  idea  of  a  hem 


THE   DAY  AFTER    THANKSGIVING.  1 99 

But  I  never  thought  the  day  would  come  when  I'd 
stand  in  his  house  and  see  all  the  things  he  touched 
and  looked  at." 

"That's  the  way  everybody  seems  to  feel  about 
the  general,"  thought  the  Little  Colonel,  glancing 
from  the  blue-coated  policeman  to  the  portrait.  "  It's 
grand  to  be  a  hero." 

Elise  was  too  tired  and  sleepy  to  talk  about  her 
adventures  that  night,  and  asked  to  be  put  to  bed  as 
soon  as  she  had  had  the  bowl  of  oyster  soup  that  was 
being  kept  hot  for  her.  When  the  cook  brought  it 
in,  loudly  blessing  all  the  saints  in  the  calendar  that 
the  child  had  been  found,  all  the  family  remembered 
that  they  were  hungry  and  the  long  delayed  dinner 
was  brought  on  again. 

Elise  fell  asleep  at  the  table  before  she  finished 
the  soup,  but  she  opened  her  drowsy  eyes  as  they 
were  carrying  her  away  to  bed  to  say,  "  You  all  won't 
feel  very  bad,  will  you,  if  I  give  you  just  a  teenty 
weenty  Christmas  present  this  year  ?  'Cause  I  want 
to  save  most  of  my  money  to  buy  something  nice  for 
that  big  policeman  that  brought  me  home.  Being 
found  is  the  very  best  thing  in  all  the  world,  and  I 
would  have  been  lost  yet,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  him." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

LLOYD    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY. 

"  It  was  Molly's  little  lost  sister,  I'm  sure  of  it ! '' 
insisted  Elise  next  morning,  stopping  in  the  middle 
of  her  dressing  to  argue  the  matter  with  Lloyd  and 
Allison.  "  Of  course  I  couldn't  see  her  face,  for  she 
had  her  apron  up  over  it,  crying.  But  neither  can 
you  see  the  little  girl's  face  in  the  picture,  Allison 
Walton,  and  the  rest  of  her  was  exactly  like  the 
picture.     See  ? " 

She  ran  across  the  room  for  the  magazine  that 
had  been  brought  up  from  the  library  on  the  night 
of  Thanksgiving,  and  which  still  lay  open  on  the 
table. 

"  They  have  the  same  thin  little  arms  and  ragged 
clothes  and  everything.  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  was  Dot 
that  I  ran  after,  and  now  that  I  know  how  awful  it 
is  to  be  lost,  I'd  do  anything  to  find  her.  I  dreamed 
about  her  last  night,  and  I  can't  think  about  anybody 
else." 

So  positive  was  she,  that  Lloyd  could  hardly  wait 

200 


\ 

\ 

\ 
LLOYD  MAKES  A   DISCOVERY.  201 

for  ten  o'clock  to  come,  the  hour  that  her  mother 
had  promised  to  call  for  her.  They  were  to  begin 
their  Christmas  shopping  that  morning,  for  the 
calendar  showed  them  that  whatever  gifts  they 
intended  sending  Betty  and  Eugenia  must  soon  be 
started  on  their  way,  in  order  to  reach  them  in 
time.  Lloyd  was  so  excited  over  the  prospect 
of  finding  Dot  that  she  wanted  to  postpone  the 
shopping,  and  start  at  once  for  the  tenement 
district  where  Elise  had  wandered  away  from  her 
carriage. 

"  I  know  that  Betty  and  Eugenia  would  rather  do 
without  any  Christmas  gifts,"  she  declared  almost 
tearfully,  "than  miss  this  chance  of  finding  her. 
Betty  used  to  talk  about  it  all  the  time,  and  if  we 
don't  go  this  morning,  something  may  happen  that 
we  may  never  find  her." 

"  But  be  reasonable,  dear,"  answered  Mrs.  Sherman. 
"It  would  be  like  hunting  for  a  needle  in  a  hay- 
stack. You  have  such  a  slight  clue,  Lloyd.  That 
picture  is  not  a  picture  of  Molly's  sister.  It  is  only 
one  that  reminded  Molly  of  her,  and  there  are  thou- 
sands of  poor  little  waifs  in  the  world  that  look  like 
that.  I  will  see  the  Humane  Society  about  her,  and 
the  teachers  of  the  free  kindergarten  who  work  in 
that  district,  and  we  will  report  the  case  to  the  police. 


202  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

It  would  be  useless  for  ug  to  go  wandering  aim- 
lessly  around,  up  one  flight  of  dirty  stairs  and  down 
another." 

Lloyd  had  to  be  content  with  that,  but  all  the 
time  she  was  going  around  among  the  shops,  trying 
to  choose  gifts  appropriate  to  send  across  the  sea, 
she  kept  thinking  of  Molly  as  she  had  seen  her  that 
rainy  day,  lying  face  downward  on  her  cot  and  sob- 
bing out  her  misery  in  the  little  attic  room  of  the 
Cuckoo's  Nest. 

They  went  back  to  Mrs.  Walton's  for  lunch,  where 
Elise  was  still  talking  of  her  adventure  of  the  night 
before. 

"  I  wish  Dot  had  some  of  this  good  plum-pudding," 
she  remarked.  "  She  looked  so  cold  and  hungry. 
Maybe  she  was  crying  because  she  didn't  have 
anything  to  eat." 

Mrs.  Walton  shook  her  head  in  perplexity.  "  Every- 
thing leads  straight  back  to  that  subject,"  she  ex- 
claimed, "  The  child  has  talked  of  nothing  else  all 
morning.  Oh,  I  almost  forgot  to  tell  you,  Lloyd. 
Mrs.  Moore  called  while  you  were  out  this  morning, 
and  promised  Elise  she  would  take  her  through  all 
those  tenements  next  week.  She  is  very  charitable, 
and  has  helped  so  many  poor  people  in  that  part  of 
the  city  that    they  will  do  anything  for  her.      She 


LLOYD   MAKES  A    DISCOVERY.  203 

thinks  that  there  really  may  be  some  possibility  01 
rinding  the  child." 

Lloyd's  face  shone  as  if  she  had  come  into  the 
possession  of  a  fortune.  She  was  sure  now  that 
Dot  would  be  found  in  time  to  keep  Christmas  with 
them,  and  she  could  scarcely  wait  until  she  reached 
home  to  write  to  Betty  about  the  search  that  was  to 
be  made. 

She  went  back  to  her  Aunt  Jane's  that  afternoon 
to  wait  until  train  time,  much  to  the  disappointment 
of  Allison  and  Kitty,  who  were  arranging  some 
tableaux. 

"You'll  write  to  me  if  they  find  out  anything 
about  Dot,  won't  you  ? "  she  asked  Allison  at  parting. 

"Yes,  the  very  next  breath,"  answered  Allison. 
So  the  Little  Colonel  went  away  quite  hopeful,  and 
for  days  she  haunted  the  post-office.  Before  school, 
after  school,  at  recess,  sometimes  the  last  thing 
before  dark,  she  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  post-office, 
to  stand  on  tiptoe  and  see  if  anything  was  in  their 
box.  But  the  days  went  by,  and  the  long-looked-for 
letter  never  came.  There  were  papers  and  maga- 
zines, thick  letters  from  Joyce,  and  thin  foreign- 
stamped  ones  from  Betty  and  Eugenia,  but  none  that 
told  of  a  successful  search  for  Dot. 

Two  weeks  before  Christmas  there  came  a  letter 


204         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

from  Allison,  inviting  her  to  spend  the  following 
Saturday  in  town.  On  the  opposite  page  her  mother 
had  pencilled  a  postscript  almost  as  long  as  the  letter 
itself,  saying  :  "  Do  come  in  with  Lloyd.  Sister  Elise 
usually  makes  a  merry  Christmas  for  the  little  ones 
at  the  Children's  Hospital,  but  this  year  she  will 
be  so  busy  with  other  things  that  she  has  asked  us 
to  take  her  place.  Malcolm  and  Keith  have  asked 
for  an  unusually  big  celebration  at  Fairchance  this 
Christmas,,  and  she  will  have  her  hands  full  trying 
to  carry  out  all  their  plans. 

"  I  have  promised  to  take  her  place  here,  and  we 
have  planned  a  tiny  individual  Christmas  tree  for 
each  child  in  the  hospital.  I  am  going  to  take  the 
girls  down  there  Saturday  and  let  them  talk  to 
the  children,  and  find  out,  as  far  as  possible,  what 
gift  woulu  make  each  one  happy.  Be  sure  to  come 
in  with  Lloyd.  Even  if  we  have  failed  in  our  efforts 
to  find  little  Dot,  we  may  have  a  hand  in  making 
twenty  other  little  souls  supremely  happy  on  Christ- 
mas Day.  Come  on  the  early  train,  and  we  will  go 
to  the  hospital  first,  and  spend  the  rest  of  the  day 
in  shopping." 

Luckily  it  was  late  in  the  week  when  the  letter 
arrived,  or  Lloyd  would  have  had  a  hard  time  waiting 
for  Saturday.     So  impatient  was  she  for  the  holiday 


LLOYD   MAKES  A   DISCOVERY.  205 

to  come  that  she  began  to  count  the  hours  and  then 
even  the  minutes. 

"Two  whole  days  and  nights!"  she  exclaimed. 
"That  makes  forty-eight  hours,  and  there's  sixty 
minutes  in  an  hour,  and  sixty  seconds  in  a  minute. 
That  makes  —  let  me  see."  It  was  too  big  a  sum 
to  do  in  her  head,  so  she  ran  for  pencil  and  paper 
and  began  multiplying  carefully,  putting  down  the 
amount  in  neat  little  figures. 

"  One  hundred  and  seventy-two  thousand  eight 
hundred  seconds,"  she  announced,  finally.  "  What  a 
terrible  lot.  The  clock  has  to  tick  that  many  times 
before  I  can  go." 

"But  remember,  part  of  that  time  you  will  be 
asleep,"  suggested  Papa  Jack.  "  Over  fifty  thousand 
of  these  seconds  will  be  ticked  off  when  you  know 
nothing  about  it." 

That  was  some  comfort,  and  the  Little  Colonel, 
putting  on  her  warmest  winter  wrappings,  went  out 
to  make  some  of  the  other  seconds  go  by  unnoticed, 
by  rolling  up  snowballs  for  a  huge  snow-man  on  the 
lawn. 

It  had  been  a  dull  week  in  the  hospital.  Gray 
skies  and  falling  snow  is  a  dreary  outlook  for  children 
who  can  do  nothing  but  lie  in  their  narrow  beds  and 
look  wearily  out  of  the  windows.      This   Saturday 


?-06         THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

morning  the  nurses  had  given  the  little  invalids  their 
baths  and  breakfasts,  the  doctors  had  made  their 
rounds,  and  in  each  ward  were  restless  little  bodies 
who  longed  to  be  amused. 

Those  who  were  well  enough  to  be  propped  up  in 
bed  fingered  the  games  and  pictures  that  had  en- 
tertained them  before ;  but  a  dozen  pairs  of  eyes  in 
search  of  some  new  interest  turned  expectantly 
toward  the  door  every  time  it  opened.  Suddenly  a 
stir  went  through  the  ward  where  the  convalescents 
lay,  and  the  wintry  morning  seemed  to  blossom  into 
June-time. 

Four  little  girls,  each  with  her  arms  full  of  great 
red  roses,  with  leafy  stems  so  long  that  it  seemed 
the  whole  bush  must  have  been  cut  down  with  them, 
passed  down  the  room,  leaving  one  at  each  pillow. 

"  My  Aunt  Elise  sent  them,"  said  the  smallest 
child,  pausing  at  the  first  white  bed.  "  She  asked  us 
to  bring  them  'cause  she  couldn't  come  herself. 
They're  American  Beauties  and  they  always  make 
me  think  of  my  Aunt  Elise." 

"  She  must  be  a  dandy,  then,"  was  the  response  of 
Micky  O'Brady,  on  whom  she  bestowed  one,  taking 
it  up  awkwardly  in  his  left  hand.  His  right  one  was 
still  in  a  sling,  and  one  leg  had  just  been  taken  out 
of  a  plaster  cast,  for  he  had  been  run  evei  by  a  heav> 


LLOYD  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY.  20? 

truck,  and  narrowly  escaped  being  made  a  cripple  for 
life.  Elise  stopped  to  question  him  about  his  acci- 
dent, and  found  that  despite  his  crippled  leg  a  pair 
of  skates  was  what  he  wished  for  above  all  things. 
While  she  was  chattering  away  to  him  like  a  little 
magpie,  Kitty  and  Allison  went  on  down  the  room 
with  their  roses.  It  was  not  the  first  time  they  had 
been  there,  and  they  knew  some  of  the  children  by 
name.  But  it  was  all  new  to  Lloyd.  In  the  next 
room  the  sight  of  the  white  little  faces,  some  of 
them  drawn  with  pain,  almost  brought  the  tears  to 
ner  eyes. 

There  were  only  six  beds  in  this  ward,  and  at  the 
last  one  Lloyd  laid  a  rose  down  very  softly,  because 
in  that  bed  the  little  invalid  lay  on  one  side  as  if  she 
were  asleep.  But  as  the  perfume  of  the  great 
American  Beauty  reached  her,  she  opened  her  eyes 
and  smiled  weakly.  Lloyd  was  so  startled  that  she 
dropped  the  rest  of  the  roses  to  the  floor  and  clasped 
both  hands  around  the  bedpost.  For  the  eyes  that 
smiled  up  at  her,  keen  and  gray  with  their  curly  black 
lashes,  might  have  been  Molly's  own,  they  were  so 
like  hers.  The  black  hair  brushed  back  from  the 
white  face  waved  over  the  left  temple  exactly  as 
Molly's  did.  There  were  the  same  straight  black 
eyebrows  and  the  familiar  droop  of  the  pretty  little 


208  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

mouth,  and  it  seemed  to  Lloyd,  as  she  stared  at  her 
with  a  fascinated  gaze,  that  it  was  Molly  herself  who 
lay  there  white  and  wan.  Only  a  much  smaller 
Molly,  with  a  sad,  hopeless  little  face,  as  if  the  battle 
with  life  had  proved  too  hard,  and  she  was  slowly 
giving  it  up. 

The  child,  still  smiling,  weakly  raised  her  bony 
little  hand  to  lift  the  rose  from  the  pillow,  and  even 
the  gesture  with  which  she  laid  it  against  her  cheek 
was  familiar. 

"  Oh,  what  is  your  name  ?  "  cried  Lloyd,  forgetting 
that  she  had  been  told  not  to  talk  in  that  room. 

"  The  people  I  lived  with  last  called  me  Muggins," 
said  the  child,  faintly,  "  but  a  long  time  ago  it  used 
to  be  Dot." 

As  she  spoke  she  turned  her  head  so  that  both 
sides  of  her  face  were  visible,  and  Lloyd  saw  that 
across  the  right  eyebrow  was  a  thin  white  scar. 

"  Oh,  I  knew  it !  "  cried  Lloyd,  under  her  breath. 
"  I  knew  it  the  minute  I  looked  at  you !  "  Then 
to  the  child's  astonishment,  without  waiting  to  pick 
up  the  fallen  roses,  she  ran  breathlessly  into  the 
hall 

"  Mothah  !  Mrs.  Walton  !  "  she  cried,  breaking 
into  their  conversation  with  one  of  the  nurses. 
"  Come  quick,  I've  found  her  !     It's  really,  truly  Dot ! 


"eOH9    WHAT  IS    YOUR   NAME?'" 


jlloyd  makes  a  discovery.  209 

She  says  that  is  her  name,  and  she  looks  exactly  like 
Molly.     Oh,  do  come  and  see  her!  " 

She  wanted  to  rush  back  to  the  child  with  the 
news  that  she  knew  her  sister  Molly  and  that  they 
shcmfc?  soon  be  together,  but  the  nurse  said  it  would 
excite  her  too  much  if  it  were  really  so.  Then  she 
wanted  to  send  a  telegram  to  Molly  and  a  cable  to 
Betty  saying  that  Dot  had  been  found,  but  nobody 
except  herself  was  sure  that  this  little  Dot  was 
Molly's  sister. 

"  We  must  be  absolutely  sure  of  that  first,"  said 
Mrs.  Sherman,  who  saw  the  same  strong  resemblance 
to  Molly  that  had  startled  the  Little  Colonel,  but 
who  knew  how  often  such  resemblances  exist  between 
entire  strangers.  "  Think  how  cruel  it  would  be  to 
raise  any  false  hopes  in  either  one.  Think  how  sure 
Elise  was  that  the  child  she  followed  was  Molly's 
sister.  You  both  couldn't  be  right,  for  this  one  was 
brought  to  the  hospital  before  Elise  was  lost." 

The  nurse  could  tell  very  little.  The  child  had 
been  picked  up  on  the  street  so  ill  that  she  was  de- 
lirious, and  all  their  investigating  had  proved  little 
beyond  the  fact  that  she  had  been  deserted  by  her 
drunken  father.  Her  illness  was  evidently  caused  by 
lack  ol  proper  food  and  clothing.  Nobody  knew  hei 
by  any  other  name  than  Muggins. 


2IO  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

While  they  were  still  discussing  the  matter  in  the 
hall,  Allison  had  a  bright  idea.  "  Why  couldn't  you 
telephone  for  Ranald  to  bring  his  camera  and  take  a 
picture  of  her  and  send  that  to  Molly.  If  she  says  it 
is  Dot  that  will  settle  it.,: 

The  nurse  thought  that  would  be  a  sensible  thing 
to  do,  but  they  had  to  wait  until  one  of  the  doctors 
was  consulted.  As  soon  as  he  gave  his  permission, 
they  began  to  make  arrangements.  Ranald  answered 
his  mother's  summons  promptly,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  he  was  setting  up  his  tripod  in  the  room  where 
the  child  lay. 

A  pleased  smile  came  over  the  child's  face  when 
she  discovered  what  was  to  be  done.  "  Put  in  all  the 
things  that  have  made  me  so  happy  while  I  have 
been  in  the  hospital,"  she  said  to  the  nurse,  "  so  that 
when  I  leave  here  I  can  have  the  picture  of  them  to 
look  at." 

So  they  laid  a  big  wax  doll  in  her  arms,  that  had 
been  her  constant  companion,  and  around  her  on  the 
counterpane  they  spread  the  games  and  pictures  she 
had  played  with  before  she  grew  so  weak.  On  her 
pillow  was  the  queen-rose,  and  close  beside  the  bed 
they  wheeled  the  little  table  that  held  a  plate  of  white 
grapes  and  oranges.  Just  as  Ranald  was  ready  to 
take  the  picture,  the  matron  came  in  with  a  plate  of 


LLOYD   MAKES  A    DISCOVERY.  211 

ice-cream.  "Oh,  put  that  in,  too,"  cried  Muggins 
"  Miss  Hale  sends  it  every  day,  and  it's  one  of  the 
happiest  things  to  remember  about  the  hospital.  It 
is  like  heaven,  isn't  it  ? "  she  exclaimed,  glancing 
around  at  the  luxuries  she  had  never  known  until 
she  came  to  the  hospital,  and  that  smile  was  on  her 
face  when  Ranald  took  the  picture. 

"  I'll  develop  it  as  soon  as  I  get  home,  and  print 
one  for  you  this  afternoon,"  he  promised,  "You 
shall  have  one  to-morrow." 

"  Will  you  print  me  one,  too  ? "  inquired  the  Little 
Colonel,  anxiously,  when  they  had  bidden  Muggins 
good-bye,  and  were  going  through  the  hall.  "  I  want 
one  to  send  to  Betty  and  Eugenia,  and  one  to  send  to 
Joyce,  and  one  to  keep." 

"  I'll  print  a  dozen  next  week  if  you  want  them," 
promised  Ranald,  "  but  the  first  one  must  be  for  that 
little  Dot  or  Muggins,  or  whatever  you  call  her,  and 
the  next  one  for  Molly." 

It  was  Mrs.  Sherman  who  wrote  the  letter  that 
carried  the  picture  to  Molly.  By  the  same  mail 
there  went  a  note  to  Mrs.  Appleton,  saying  that  in 
case  Molly  recognised  it  as  her  sister,  they  would 
send  for  her  to  come  and  spend  Christmas  with 
her  in  the  hospital,  for  the  nurse  had  said  it  would 
probably   be   the   child's   last   Christmas,  and   they 


212         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

wanted  to  do  all  they  could  to  make  it  a  happy 
one. 

In  a  few  days  the  answer  came.  Molly  was  almost 
wild  with  joy,  and  would  start  as  soon  as  the  prom- 
ised railroad  ticket  reached  her.  The  photograph  g" 
little  Dot  was  scarcely  out  of  her  hands,  Mrs.  Apple- 
ton  said.  She  propped  it  up  in  front  of  her  while 
she  washed  the  dishes.  It  lay  in  her  lap  when  she 
was  at  the  table,  and  at  night  she  slept  with  it  under 
her  pillow  to  bring  her  happy  dreams. 

The  day  that  Mrs.  Appleton's  letter  came,  Allison 
went  up  to  her  mother's  room  and  stood  beside  her 
desk  waiting  for  her  pen  to  come  to  the  end  of  a 
page.  "  Mamma,"  she  said,  as  Mrs.  Walton  finally 
looked  up,  "  I've  thought  of  such  a  nice  plan.  Have 
you  time  to  listen  ? " 

Mrs.  Walton  smiled  up  at  the  thoughtful  face  of 
her  eldest  daughter.  "  You  should  have  been  named 
Pansy,  my  dear.  Pensee  is  for  thought,  you  know, 
and  I'm  glad  to  say  you  are  always  having  thoughts 
of  some  sensible  way  to  help  other  people.  I'm  very 
busy,  but  I  am  sure  your  plan  is  a  good  one,  so  I'll  let 
the  letters  wait  for  awhile." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  and  Allison,  dropping 
down  on  the  rug  at  her  feet,  began  eagerly.  "  Out 
at  the  hospital,  mamma,  there  is  a  little  empty  room 


LLOYD  MAKES  A   DISCOVERY.  213 

at  the  end  of  a  side  hall.  It  is  a  dear  little  room  with 
a  fireplace  and  a  sunny  south  window.  It  has  never 
been  furnished  because  they  haven't  enough  money. 
I  asked  one  of  the  nurses  about  it,  and  she  said  they 
often  need  it  for  cases  like  Dot.  It  would  be  so  much 
pleasanter  to  have  her  away  from  all  the  noise.  And 
I've  been  thinking  if  it  could  be  fixed  up  for  Dot  to 
spend  Christmas  in,  how  much  nicer  it  would  be  for 
her  and  Molly  both.  It  wouldn't  cost  very  much  to 
furnish  it,  just  enough  to  get  the  little  white  bedroom 
set  and  the  sheets  and  towels  and  things.  Anyhow, 
it  wouldn't  be  much  more  than  you've  often  spent  on 
my  Christmas  presents.  And  I  wanted  to  know  if 
you  wouldn't  let  me  do  that  this  year  instead  of  your 
giving  me  a  Christmas  present.  Please,  mamma,  I've 
set  my  heart  on  it.  If  I  got  books  they'd  soon  be 
read,  and  jewelry  or  games  I'd  get  tired  of  after 
awhile,  and  things  to  wear,  no  matter  how  pretty, 
would  be  worn  out  soon.  But  this  is  something  that 
would  last  for  years.  I  could  think  every  day  that 
some  poor  little  soul  who  has  never  known  anything 
but  to  be  sick  or  sad  was  enjoying  my  pretty  room." 
"  That  is  as  beautiful  a  pensee  as  ever  blossomed 
in  any  heart-garden,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Walton, 
softly,  smoothing  the  curly  head  resting  against  her 
knee,  "  and  mother  is  glad  that  her  little  girl's  plans 


214         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

are  such  sweet  unselfish  ones.  We'll  go  this  very 
afternoon  and  talk  to  the  matron  about  it." 

Aladdin's  lamp  is  not  the  only  thing  that  can  sud- 
denly bring  wonderful  things  to  pass.  There  is  a 
modern  magic  of  telephones  and  electric  cars,  and  the 
great  Genii  of  sympathy  and  good-will  are  all-powerful 
when  once  unbottled.  So  a  few  hours  wrought  won- 
derful changes  in  the  empty  little  room,  and  next 
morning  Allison  stood  in  the  centre  of  it  looking 
around  her  with  delighted  eyes. 

Everything  was  as  white  and  fresh  as  a  snowdrop, 
from  the  little  bed  to  the  dainty  dressing-table  beside 
the  window.  A  soft  firelight  shone  on  the  white- 
tiled  hearth  of  the  open  fireplace.  The  morning  sun 
streamed  in  through  the  wide  south  window,  where  a 
pot  of  pink  hyacinths  swung  its  rosy  bells,  and  Alli- 
son's Japanese  canary,  Nagasaki,  twittered  in  its 
gilded  cage.  She  had  brought  it  all  the  way  from 
Japan. 

"  Of  course  they  won't  want  it  in  the  room  all  the 
time,"  she  said,  "but  there  will  be  days  when  the 
children  will  love  to  have  it  brought  in  a  little  while 
to  sing  to  them." 

"  If  you  give  up  Nagasaki  then  I'll  give  my  globe 
of  goldfish,"  said  Kitty,  anxious  to  do  her  part 
toward  making  a  happy  time  for  little  Dot.     "  After- 


LLOYD  MAKES  A    DISCOVERY.  21  5 

ward,  if  the  child  who  stays  in  that  room  is  too  sick 
to  enjoy  it,  it  can  go  into  the  convalescent  ward." 

It  was  into  this  room  that  Molly  came,  bringing 
her  picture  of  the  Good  Shepherd.  She  had  carried 
it  in  her  arms  all  the  way,  frequently  taking  it  out  of 
its  brown  paper  wrapping,  for  down  in  one  corner 
of  the  frame  she  had  fastened  the  photograph  of  Dot. 

All  that  morning  on  the  train,  the  refrain  that  had 
gone  through  her  happy  heart  as  she  looked  at  the 
picture  was,  "  Oh,  she's  been  happy  for  a  month ! 
She's  got  grapes  and  oranges,  and  a  doll,  and  roses  in 
the  picture,  and  ice-cream  I  And  there's  lace  on  her 
nightgown,  and  she  is  smiling" 

"  Shall  we  name  the  room  for  you,  Miss  Allison  ?  " 
asked  the  nurse,  when  the  picture  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd was  hung  over  the  mantel,  and  Dot  lay  looking 
up  at  it  with  tired  eyes,  her  little  hand  clasped  in 
Molly's,  and  a  satisfied  smile  on  her  face. 

"  No,"  whispered  Allison,  her  glance  following  the 
gaze  of  the  child's  eyes.  "  Call  it  The  Fold  of  the 
Good  Shepherd.  She  looks  like  a  poor  little  lost  lamb 
that  had  just  found  its  way  home." 

"  I  wish  all  the  poor  little  stray  lambs  might  find  as 
warm  a  shelter,"  answered  the  nurse,  in  an  undertone, 
"  and  I  hope,  my  dear,  that  all  your  Christmases  will 
be  as  happy  as  the  one  you  are  making  for  her." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

A    HAPPY    CHRISTMAS, 

There  was  a  fortnight's  vacation  at  Christmas 
time.  Lloyd  spent  nearly  all  the  week  before  in 
town,  and  not  once  in  all  that  time  did  it  occur  to  hei 
to  wonder  what  she  might  find  in  her  own  stocking. 
She  was  too  busy  helping  get  the  little  trees  ready 
for  the  children  in  the  hospital. 

There  were  twenty  of  them,  each  one  complete, 
with  starry  tapers  and  glittering  ornaments,  with  red- 
cheeked  candy  apples,  and  sugar  animals  hung  by 
the  neck ;  with  tiny  tarlatan  stockings  of  bonbons, 
with  festoons  of  snowy  popcorn,  and  all  that  goes  to 
make  up  the  Christmas  trees  that  are  the  dearest 
memories  of  childhood.  And  somewhere,  hidden 
among  the  branches  cf  each  one,  or  lying  at  its  base, 
was  the  especial  book  or  toy  or  game  that  its  owner 
had  been  known  to  long  for. 

"  I  believe  that  Molly  and  Dot  would  rather  have 
theirs  together,"  said  Allison.     "As  they  are  in  a 

*i6 


A   HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  217 

room  by  themselves  we  can  give  them  as  large 
a  one  as  we  please,  and  the  others  will  never  know 
it." 

So  it  was  a  good-sized  tree  that  was  set  aside  for 
"The  Fold."  The  very  prettiest  of  the  ornaments 
were  put  with  it ;  the  brightest  coloured  candles,  and 
at  the  top  was  fastened  a  glittering  Christmas  angel 
and  a  shining  Christmas  star. 

It  was  not  till  the  day  before  Christmas  that  they 
began  to  think  of  their  own  affairs.  Then  Kitty 
brought  out  four  stockings,  which  the  Little  Colonel 
examined  with  interest.  They  were  long  and  wide, 
with  tiny  sleigh-bells  on  the  top,  the  heels,  and  the 
toes,  that  jingled  musically  at  the  slightest  move- 
ment. Two  were  pink  and  two  were  blue.  What 
charmed  Lloyd  the  most  were  the  fascinating  pic- 
tures printed  on  them.  They  told  the  whole  story 
of  Christmas. 

Holly  and  mistletoe  and  Christmas  trees  were  on 
one  side,  down  which  ran  a  road  where  pranced  the 
reindeer  with  the  magic  sleigh,  driven  by  jolly  old 
Santa  Claus  himself.  On  the  other  side  of  the 
stocking  was  the  picture  of  the  fireplace  and  a  row 
of  stockings  hanging  from  the  mantel.  In  a  cradle 
near  by  lay  a  baby  asleep.  Down  on  the  toe  was 
printed  in  fancy  letters : 


2l8  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

"  Hang  up  the  baby's  stocking, 
Be  sure  and  don't  forget. 
The  dear  little  dimpled  darling 
Has  never  seen  Christmas  yet." 

"We  hang  them  up  every  year,"  explained  Kitty. 
"  Ranald  and  all  of  us.  It  wouldn't  seem  like 
Christmas  if  we  used  any  other  kind.  We  had 
them  in  Washington  and  at  every  army  post 
we've  lived  at,  and  they've  been  around  the  world 
with  us.  If  they  could  talk  they  could  tell  of 
more  good  times  than  any  other  stockings  in  the 
world." 

"Um!  I  just  love  mine!"  cried  Elise,  catching 
hers  up  with  a  caressing  squeeze,  and  then  swinging 
it  around  her  head  until  every  little  bell  was  set 
a-jingling  musically.  A  little  while  later  she  said, 
with  a  serious  face,  "  I  don't  s'pose  Molly  and  Dot 
ever  saw  a  beautiful  picture  stocking  like  this.  Do 
you  ?  Gifts  seem  so  much  nicer  when  they  come 
out  of  it  than  out  of  the  common  kind  that  I  believe 
I'll  lend  them  mine  this  year.  I  know  what  it  is  to 
be  lost,  you  know.  I'm  so  glad  that  I  was  found 
that  I'd  like  to  do  something  to  show  how  thankful 
I  am  about  it." 

"  But  how  will  Santa  Claus  know  it's  to  be  filled 
for  them  ? "  asked  Kitty.     "  He  has  always  filled  it 


A   HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  219 

for  you,  and  he  might  put  your  things  in  it,  and 
they'd  get  them." 

"  I  could  pin  a  note  on  it  saying  it  was  mine,  but 
to  please  put  their  things  in  it  this  one  time,"  said 
Elise,  with  a  troubled  look,  as  she  went  over  to  the 
window  to  consider  the  matter  by  herself. 

A  little  while  later  she  carried  her  stocking  to  her 
mother  with  this  note  pinned  to  it : 

"  Dear  Santa  Claus  :  —  This  is  my  stocking.  I  s'pose 
you'll  recognise  it,  as  I've  carried  it  around  the  world  with  me, 
and  you  have  put  lots  of  pretty  things  in  it  for  me  every  year 
since  I  was  born.  But  this  year  please  put  Molly's  and  Dot's 
presents  in  it,  and  I  shall  be  a  million  times  obliged  to  you. 
"  Your  loving  little  friend, 

"  Elise  Walton." 

"But  what  will  you  do,  little  one?"  asked  Mrs. 
Walton. 

"  Hang  up  one  of  my  blue  silk  stockings,"  said 
Elise,  promptly,  as  she  danced  around  the  room, 
jingling  the  bells  on  heel  and  toe  in  time  to  a  gay 
little  tune  of  her  own. 

Lloyd  would  not  have  missed  taking  part  in  the 
Christmas  celebration  at  the  hospital  for  anything, 
yet  she  could  not  give  up  her  usual  custom  of  hang- 
ing her  stocking  beside  the  old  fireplace  at  Locust. 
So,  in  order  to  give  her  both  pleasures,  it  was  finally 


220         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

decided  that  the  trees  should  be  taken  to  the  hos- 
pital at  dusk  on  Christmas  eve,  and  she  could  go 
home  afterward  on  the  nine  o'clock  train. 

Malcolm  and  Keith  were  having  a  great  celebration 
out  at  Fairchance  for  Jonesy  and  all  who  had  been 
gathered  into  the  home  since  its  founding.  Miss 
Allison  was  helping  them,  and  could  not  go  into 
town,  much  to  the  disappointment  of  the  girls. 

"  I  wish  that  auntie  was  twins,"  said  Kitty, 
mournfully.  "Then  she  could  be  in  both  places  at 
once.  The  boys  are  always  wanting  her  whenever 
we  do." 

"Your  auntie  helped  with  the  celebration  last 
year  at  the  hospital,  Kitty-cat,"  said  her  mother, 
"  so  it  is  only  fair  that  they  should  have  her  in  the 
country  this  year." 

"But  Malcolm  and  Keith  were  with  her  both 
times,"  persisted  Kitty,  jealously.  "  I  think  that  it 
is  just  too  bad  that  she  isn't  twins." 

Rob  and  Ranald  went  with  the  girls  to  help  dis- 
tribute the  trees.  It  seemed  as  if  a  tiny  forest  had 
been  carried  out  of  fairyland  and  set  in  long,  glit- 
tering rows  down  the  sides  of  the  wards.  One 
twinkled  and  bloomed  beside  each  little  white  bed. 
The  children  did  not  stay  long  in  the  wards.  They 
were  more  interested  in  the  little  room  at  the  end  of 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  221 

the  hall,  —  Allison's  room,  that  was  known  all  over 
the  building  now  as  "  The  Fold  of  the  Good  Shep- 
herd." The  room  where  two  little  sisters  lost  from 
each  other  so  long,  but  brought  together  at  last, 
lived  through  the  happy  hours,  hand  in  hand. 

Molly's  face  had  lost  every  trace  of  its  old  sullen 
pout,  and  fairly  shone  with  contentment  as  she  sat 
by  Dot's  bed,  smoothing  her  pillow,  feeding  her  from 
time  to  time  as  the  nurse  directed,  and  singing  softly 
when  the  tired  eyes  drooped  wearily  to  sleep. 

"  She  would  make  a  fine  nurse,"  said  the  matron 
to  Mrs.  Walton.  "  She  is  strong  and  patient,  and 
seems  to  have  so  much  sense  about  what  to  do  for 
a  sick  person.  Usually  we  wouldn't  think  of  letting 
anybody  come  in  as  she  is  doing,  but  she  minds  the 
nurse's  slightest  nod,  and  seems  to  be  doing  Dot 
more  good  than  medicine." 

It  had  cost  Elise  a  pang  to  give  up  her  cherished 
stocking  even  as  a  loan,  but  she  was  more  than 
repaid  by  the  pleasure  it  gave  the  child,  who  had 
known  no  Christmas  story  and  none  of  its  joy  since 
she  had  been  large  enough  to  remember. 

They  went  back  to  their  homes  as  soon  afterward 
as  possible,  Lloyd  to  hang  up  her  stocking  at  Locust, 
and  the  children  to  put  theirs  by  the  library  fire. 
One  plain  little  blue  one  hung  among  the  gay  pio 


222  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

tured  ones,  no  mistletoe  upon  it,  no  holly,  no  jingling 
bells,  no  printed  rhymes ;  but  as  Mrs.  Walton  gath- 
ered Elise's  little  white  gowned  form  in  her  arms, 
she  repeated  something  that  made  the  child  look  up 
wonderingly. 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  "  she  cried.  "  Does  it  mean  that 
the  little  Christ-child  counts  it  just  the  same  —  my 
lending  the  stocking  to  Dot  and  Molly  —  as  if  I  had 
loaned  it  to  him  ?  " 

"  Just  the  same,  little  one." 

"And  he  is  glad  ?  "  She  asked  the  question  in  an 
awed  whisper. 

"  I  am  sure  he  is  ;  far  gladder  than  they." 

Somehow  the  thought  that  she  had  really  brought 
joy  to  the  Christ-child  made  more  music  in  her  heart 
that  Christmas  eve  than  all  the  tinkling  of  the  tiny 
Christmas  bells. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  tell  of  all  the  good  times 
that  filled  the  happy  holiday.  At  Fairchance  it  was 
a  sight  worth  travelling  miles  to  see,  —  those  merry 
little  lads,  and  the  two  little  knights  who  had  gone 
so  far  in  their  trying  to  "  right  the  wrong  and  follow 
the  king."  At  Locust  Lloyd  spent  a  happy  day  in  a 
bewilderment  of  gifts,  for  besides  all  that  she  found 
in  her  overflowing  stocking  were  the  packages  from 
Joyce  and   Eugenia  and  Betty.     There  was  a  new 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  223 

saddle  for  Tarbaby  from  her  grandfather,  and  a 
silver  collar  from  Rob  for  his  frisky  namesake,  with 
"  Bob  "  engraved  on  the  clasp.  All  day  there  were 
woolly  little  heads  popping  into  the  hall  to  say 
"  Chris'mus  gif,  Miss  Lloyd."  And  then  white  eye- 
balls would  shine  and  snowy  teeth  gleam  as  she 
handed  out  the  candy  and  nuts  and  oranges  reserved 
for  such  calls.  Every  old  black  mammy  or  uncle 
who  had  ever  worked  on  the  place,  every  little 
pickaninny  who  could  find  the  slightest  claim,  visited 
the  great  house  at  some  time  during  the  day  for 
a  share  of  its  holiday  cheer. 

In  the  Walton  household  there  was  a  chattering  in 
the  library  long  before  sunrise,  for  Kitty,  impatient 
to  see  what  was  in  her  stocking,  had  stolen  down 
when  the  clock  struck  five,  and  the  other  girls  had 
followed  in  her  wake.  "  I  got  fourteen  presents," 
said  Kitty,  chattering  back  to  bed  in  the  gray  dawn, 
after  a  blissful  examination  of  her  stocking. 

"  So  did  I,"  said  Elise.  "  Everything  in  the  world 
that  I  wanted,  and  lots  of  things  I'd  never  dreamed 
of  getting,  besides.  Auntie  and  Aunt  Elise  always 
think  of  such  lovely  things." 

Allison's  gifts  did  not  make  such  a  brave  showing 
when  spread  out  with  the  others,  but  she  thought  of 
the  little  white  room  at  the  hospital  with  a  warm 


224  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

glow  in  her  heart  that  was  worth  more  than  all 
the  gifts  that  money  could  buy.  Down  in  the  toe  of 
her  stocking  she  found  a  box  from  her  Aunt  Allison, 
and  took  it  back  to  bed  with  her  to  open.  Inside 
the  jeweller's  cotton  was  a  little  enamelled  pansy 
of  royal  purple  and  gold,  and  in  the  centre  sparkled 
a  tiny  diamond  like  a  drop  of  dew.  "  Mamma  must 
have  told  her,"  thought  Allison,  as  she  read  the 
greeting  written  on  the  card  with  it.  "  For  my  dear 
little  namesake.  May  your  whole  lifetime  blossom 
with  such  beautiful  thoughts  for  others  as  has  made 
this  Christmas  day  a  joy," 

Out  at  the  hospital,  as  the  day  went  by,  Dot  sat 
with  her  hand  in  Molly's,  looking  from  time  to 
time  with  eyes  that  never  lost  their  expression  of 
content,  at  the  angel  and  the  star  that  crowned  the 
tree.  She  grew  weaker  and  weaker  as  the  hours 
passed,  but,  opening  her  eyes  now  and  then,  she 
smiled  at  Molly,  and  squeezed  her  hand,  and  looked 
again  from  the  gay  stocking  hanging  on  the  foot 
of  her  bed  to  the  shining  angel  atop  of  the  tree. 

The  Japanese  canary  twittered  in  his  cage ;  the 
goldfish  flashed  around  and  around  in  their  sunny 
globe  ;  the  deep  red  roses  on  the  table  bloomed  as  if 
it  were  June-time.     Outside  there  was  snow  and  ice 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  225 

and  winter  winds.     Inside  it  was  all  cheer  and  com- 
fort and  peace  that  happy  Christmas  Day. 

Mrs.  Walton  and  the  girls  came  down  again  in  the 
twilight.  Dot  was  too  weak  to  say  much,  but  she 
asked  Mrs.  Walton  to  sing,  and  wanted  the  tapers 
lighted  again  on  the  tree.  Thoughtful  Allison  had 
brought  fresh  onss  with  her,  which  she  soon  fastened 
in  place.  And  so,  presently,  with  only  the  sofc 
firelight  in  the  room,  and  the  starlight  of  the  little 
Christmas  candles,  Mrs.  Walton  began  an  old  tune 
that  she  loved.  Her  beautiful  voice  had  sung  it  in 
many  a  hospital,  in  the  cheerless  tents  of  many 
a  camp.  Many  a  brave  soldier,  dying  thousands 
of  miles  away  from  home,  had  been  soothed  and 
comforted  by  it.  It  was  "  My  Ain  Countrie "  she 
sang.  Not  the  sweet  old  Scotch  words,  with  the 
breath  of  the  moors  and  the  scent  of  the  heather 
in  them,  that  she  loved.  She  changed  them  so  that 
the  child  could  understand.  Dot  opened  her  eyes 
and  looked  up  at  the  picture  of  the  Good  Shepherd, 
hanging  over  the  mantel,  as  she  sang : 

"  •  For  he  gathers  in  his  bosom  all  the  helpless  lambs  like  me, 
And  he  takes  them  where  he's  going,  to  my  own  country.'  " 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  and  Dot  asked 
suddenly,  "Will   everything  there  be   as  lovely  as 


226  THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

it  is  here  in  the  hospital  ? "  When  Mrs.  Walton 
nodded  yes,  she  added,  with  a  long,  fluttering  sigh, 
"Oh,  I've  been  so  happy  here.  I  don't  see  how 
heaven  could  be  any  nicer.  Sing  some  more, 
please." 

She  fell  asleep  a  little  later  to  the  soothing  refrain 
of  an  old  lullaby,  and  never  knew  when  her  guests 
slipped  out,  with  a  whispered  good  night  to  Molly. 

An  hour  went  by.  The  Christmas  tapers  burned 
lower  and  lower,  and  finally  went  out,  one  by  one, 
till  there  was  left  only  the  one  above  the  angel  and 
Ihe  star.  The  fire  flickered  on  the  hearth,  but 
Molly  did  not  rise  to  replenish  it,  for  the  little  hand 
held  hers,  and  she  did  not  want  to  waken  such  sweet 
sleep.  The  nurse  looked  in  at  the  door  once  or 
twice,  and  slipped  out  again.  Nagasaki,  curled  up 
like  a  feather  ball,  with  his  head  under  his  wing, 
stirred  once,  with  a  sleepy  twitter,  but  no  other 
sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  little  room. 

Again  the  door  opened  softly,  and  the  doctor 
stepped  in  on  his  round  of  evening  visits.  He  laid 
his  finger  on  the  little  one's  pulse  a  moment,  and 
then  turned  away.  The  last  taper  on  the  tree, 
that  lit  the  star,  glowing  above  the  Christmas  angel, 
gave  a  final  flicker  and  went  out.  The  doctor, 
stepping    into    the    hall,   met   one   of    the   nurses. 


THE    LITTLE    HAND    HELD    HERS." 


A  HAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  227 

"You'll  have  to  tell  her  sister,"  he  said.  "She  is 
still  holding  the  little  one's  hand,  thinking  that  she 
is  asleep.  But  her  life  went  out  with  the  last  of  the 
Christmas  candles." 

It  was  not  until  next  day  that  the  children 
heard  what  had  happened  the  evening  before.  The 
matron  had  telephoned  immediately  to  Mrs.  Walton, 
but  she  did  not  tell  the  children,  or  send  word  to 
Locust,  until  next  morning.  She  did  not  want  a 
single  shadow  to  rest  on  their  glad  Christmas  Day. 

"  I  do  not  believe  in  taking  children  to  funerals," 
she  said  to  her  sister  Elise,  "but  death  seems  so 
beautiful  in  this  instance  that  I  want  them  to 
see  it." 

The  reception-room  at  the  hospital  had  been  fitted 
up  like  a  chapel.  An  altar,  draped  in  white,  was 
covered  with  flowers,  and  before  it  stood  the  white 
casket  where  Dot's  frail  little  body  was  tenderly 
tucked  away  for  its  last  sleep. 

All  of  the  children  were  there ;  the  two  little 
knights,  with  a  sweet  seriousness  in  their  handsome 
faces,  wearing  in  their  buttonholes  Aunt  Allison's 
badge,  the  pin  that  was  to  remind  them  that  they 
were  trying  to  wear,  also,  "the  white  flower  of  a 
blameless  life." 


228         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

The  little  captain  stood  beside  them,  thinking,  as 
he  looked  at  the  little  body  the  saloons  had  killed 
(for  nothing  but  the  cruelty  and  neglect  of  a  drunken 
father  had  caused  Dot's  illness  and  death),  thai:  there 
were  battles  to  fight  for  his  country  at  home,  as  well 
as  those  on  foreign  fields.  The  manly  little  shoulders 
squared  themselves  with  a  grave  resolution  to  wear 
whatever  duty  the  future  might  lay  upon  them,  in 
warfare  against  evil,  as  worthily  as  he  had  worn  the 
epaulets  in  far-away  Luzon. 

Allison  and  Kitty  and  Elise  were  there,  and  the 
Little  Colonel,  all  strongly  moved  by  the  unusual 
scene.  It  was  a  very  short  and  simple  service. 
The  late  afternoon  sun  shone  in  aslant  through  the 
western  window,  like  a  wide  bar  of  gold.  The  min- 
ister read  the  parable  of  the  ninety  and  nine,  and 
repeated  the  burial  service.  Then  there  was  a 
prayer,  and  Miss  Allison,  seating  herself  at  the 
organ,  touched  the  keys  in  soft  chords  for  Mrs. 
Walton  to  sing.  She  sung  the  lullaby  that  Dot  had 
asked  for  the  night  before ;  the  cradle-song  of  hun- 
dreds of  happy  home-sheltered  children : 

***  Jesus,  tender  Shepherd,  hear  me, 
Bless  thy  little  lamb  to-night. 
Through  the  darkness  be  thou  near  me, 
Keep  me  safe  till  morning  light. 


A   BAPPY  CHRISTMAS.  229 

<*  *  Let  my  sins  be  all  forgiven, 

Bless  the  friends  I  love  so  well, 
Take  me  when  I  die  to  heaven, 
Happy  there  witi,  thee  to  dwell.' " 

When  it  was  all  over  they  filed  softly  out  into  the 
corridor,  feeling  that  they  had  only  said  good  night  to 
little  Dot,  and  that  it  was  good  that  one  so  tired  and 
worn  should  find  such  deep  and  restful  sleep.  It  was 
not  at  all  like  what  they  had  imagined  dying  to  be. 

"  Even  Molly  didn't  cry,"  said  Kitty,  wonderingly, 
as  they  went  home  together  in  the  twilight. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Walton,  "  she  said  to  me  that  she 
had  done  all  her  crying  in  those  dreadful  years  when 
they  were  separated.  She  said,  '  Oh,  Mrs.  Walton, 
now  that  I  know  that  she's  comfortable  and  happy,  I 
can't  feel  so  bad  about  her  as  I  used  to.  She's  so 
safe,  now.  No  matter  what  happens,  the  saloons 
can't  hurt  her,  now.  There'll  be  no  more  hungry 
days,  no  more  beatings,  and  it  will  always  be  such 
a  comfort  to  me  to  think  she  had  such  a  good  time 
in  the  hospital.  For  six  weeks  she  had  plenty  to  eat, 
and  everybody  was  good  to  her.  Every  time  I  look 
at  her  picture,  I  think  of  that.  She  had  white  grapes 
and  roses  even  in  the  winter-time,  and  she  had  ice- 
tream  !  All  she  wanted.  And  I  made  up  my  mind 
this  morning  that  when  I'm  old  enough  I  am  going 


230         THE  LITTLE   COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

to  be  a  trained  nurse  and  help  take  care  of  poor  little 
children  the  way  she  was  taken  care  of  here.  Miss 
Agnes  says  she  can  find  room  for  me  right  away,  for 
there's  all  sorts  of  things  that  I  can  do,  and  I'd  love 
to  do  it  for  my  poor  little  Dot's  sake.' " 

"  I  must  write  that  to  Betty,"  thought  the  Little 
Colonel.  "  That  is  the  most  beautiful  way  of  all  to 
build  a  Road  of  the  Loving  Heart." 

She  thought  cf  it  all  the  way  home,  as  the  train 
sped  on  through  the  wintry  fields,  between  snow- 
covered  fences.  It  was  dark  when  the  brakeman 
called  "  Lloydsboro  Valley,"  but  Walker  was  waiting 
with  the  carriage,  and  they  were  soon  driving  in  at 
the  great  entrance  gate. 

"  Oh,  mothah,"  said  the  Little  Colonel,  nestling 
closer  under  the  warm  carriage  robes.  "  See  how 
the  stars  shine  through  the  locust-trees,  and  how  the 
light  streams  out  from  the  house,  down  the  avenue 
to  meet  us !  Somehow,  no  mattah  how  happy  the 
holidays  are,  it  always  seems  so  good  to  get  home." 


CHAPTER   XVI 

A    PEEP    INTO    THE    FUTURE. 

"  And  what  happened  next  ?  " 

Ah,  that  I  cannot  tell  you,  for  the  rest  of  the  story 
is  yet  to  be  lived.  Only  the  swineherd's  magic  cai 
dron  can  give  you  a  glimpse  into  the  future. 

Gather  around  it,  all  you  curious  little  princes  and 
princesses,  and  thrust  your  fingers  into  the  steam  as 
the  water  bubbles  and  the  bells  begin  again.  I  can- 
not tell  what  it  will  snow  you.  Glimpses  of  college 
life,  perhaps,  and  gay  vacation  times,  as  Rob  and  the 
captain  and  the  two  little  knights  leave  their  boy- 
hood days  behind  them  and  grow  up  into  manly 
young  fellows,  ready  to  take  the  places  waiting  for 
them  in  the  world. 

Perhaps  there  will  be  college  days  and  gay  vaca- 
tion times  for  the  girls,  too,  with  white  commence- 
ment gowns  and  diplomas  and  June  roses.  And  away 
off  in  the  distance  there  may  be  the  sound  of  wed- 
ding bells  ringing  for  them  all,  but  if  it  is  too  far  for 

mi 


232  THE  LITTLE    COLONEL'S  HOLIDAYS. 

the  kettle  to  catch  the  echo  of  their  chiming,  surely 
/  have  no  right  to  tell. 

But  no  matter  what  the  kettle  may  show,  or  what 
it  fails  to  disclose,  you  may  be  sure  of  this,  that  none 
who  ever  played  under  the  Locusts  with  the  Little 
Colonel  forgot  the  pleasure  of  those  merry  playtimes. 
And  all  who  shared  her  joy  in  finding  little  Dot  were 
better  and  more  helpful  ever  after,  because  of  what 
happened  that  Christmas-tide,  the  happiest  of  all  the 
Little  Colonel's  holidays. 


THE  END, 


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activities."  —  Pittsburgh  Leader. 


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ONLY  HENRIETTA 

By  Lela  Horn  Richards. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.90 

"  It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  the  unfolding  of  life  for  a 
young  girl — a  story  in  which  there  is  plenty  of  action 
to  hold  interest  and  wealth  of  delicate  sympathy  and 
understanding  that  appeals  to  the  hearts  of  young  and 
old." — Pittsburgh  Leader. 

HENRIETTA'S   INHERITANCE:  A  Sequel  to 

"Only  Henrietta" 

By  Lela  Horn  Richards. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.90 

"  One  of  the  most  noteworthy  stories  for  girls  issued 
this  season.  The  life  of  Henrietta  is  made  very  real, 
and  there  is  enough  incident  in  the  narrative  to  balance 
the   delightful   characterization." — Providence  Journal. 

"  The  heroine  deserves  to  have  this  story  develop  into 
a  series  of  books;  a  wholesome,  sparkling,  satisfying 
story  of  American   girlhood." — New  Era  Magazine. 

THE  YOUNG  KNIGHT 

By  I.  M.  B.  of  K. 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.65 

The  clash  of  broad-sword  on  buckler,  the  twanging 
of  bow-strings  and  the  cracking  of  spears  splintered  by 
whirling  maces  resound  through  this  stirring  tale  of 
knightly  daring-do. 

Michael  Faversham,  orphaned  nephew  of  Sir  Gilbert 
Faversham,  is  a  wholesomely  mischievous  lad  who 
nevertheless  has  the  beautiful  faith  and  love  for  the 
Saviour  so  characteristic  of  the  early  sixteenth  century 
Christians.  How  he  saves  the  fortress  of  Rhodes  from 
the  besieging  Turks,  is  later  betrayed,  captured  and 
tortured  by  them  in  the  hope  that  he  may  be  made  to 
turn  traitor  and  apostate,  and  his  triumphant  escape 
from  the  hands  of  the  Infidels — all  these  will  delight 
the  sturdy  hearts  of  the  present-day  American  boy. 
A— 2 


BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


THE  MARJORY-JOE  SERIES 

By  Alice  E.  Allen 
Each  one  volume,  cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illus- 
trated, per  volume $1.50 

JOE,  THE  CIRCUS  BOY  AND  ROSEMARY 

These  are  two  of  Miss  Allen's  earliest  and  most  suc- 
cessful stories,  combined  in  a  single  volume  to  meet  the 
insistent  demands  from  young  people  for  these  two 
particular  tales. 

THE  MARTIE  TWINS:    Continuing  the  Ad- 
ventures of  Joe,  the  Circus  Boy 

"The  chief  charm  of  the  story  is  that  it  contains  so 
much  of  human  nature.  It  is  so  real  that  it  touches 
the  heart  strings." — New  York  Standard. 

MARJORY,  THE  CIRCUS  GIRL 

A  sequel  to  "Joe,  the  Circus  Boy,"  and  "The  Martie 
Twins." 

MARJORY  AT  THE  WILLOWS 

Continuing  the  story  of  Marjory,  the  Circus  Girl. 

"  Miss  Allen  does  not  write  impossible  stories,  but 
delightfully  pins  her  little  folk  right  down  to  this  life 
of  ours,  in  which  she  ranges  vigorously  and  delight- 
fully."— Boston  Ideas. 

MARJORY'S  HOUSE  PARTY:  Or,  What  Hap- 
pened at  Clover  Patch 

"  Miss  Allen  certainly  knows  how  to  please  the  chil- 
dren and  tells  them  stories  that  never  fail  to  charm." 
— Madison  Courier. 

MARJORY'S  DISCOVERY 

This  new  addition  to  the  popular  MARJORY-JOE 
SERIES  is  as  lovable  and  original  as  any  of  the  other 
creations  of  this  writer  of  charming  stories.  We  get 
little  peeps  at  the  precious  twins,  at  the  healthy  minded 
Joe  and  sweet  Marjory.  There  is  a  bungalow  party, 
which  lasts  the  entire  summer,  in  which  all  of  the 
characters  of  the  previous  MARJORY-JOE  stories 
participate,  and  their  happy  times  are  delightfully  de- 
picted. 
A— 3 


THE  PAGE  COMPANY'S 


THE   YOUNG   PIONEER   SERIES 

By  Harrison  Adams 

Bach    ISmo,    cloth    decorative,    illustrated,    per 
volume $1.65 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  OHIO;     Ob, 

Clearing  the  Wilderness. 

"  Such  books  as  this  are  an  admirable  means  of  stimu- 
lating among  the  young  Americans  of  to-day  interest  in 
the  story  of  their  pioneer  ancestors  and  the  early  days  of 
the  Republic."  —  Boston  Globe. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  ON  THE  GREAT  LAKES; 

Or,  On  the  Trail  op  the  Iroquois. 

"  The  recital  of  the  daring  deeds  of  the  frontier  is  not 
only  interesting  but  instructive  as  well  and  shows  the 
sterling  type  of  character  which  these  days  of  self-reliance 
and  trial  produced."  —  American  Tourist,  Chicago. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  MISSISSIPPI," 

Ob,  The  Hokestead  in  the  Wilderness. 
"  The  story  is  told  with  spirit,  and  is  full  of  adven- 
ture."— New  York  Sun. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  MISSOURI; 

Or,  In  the  Country  of  the  Sioux. 

"  Vivid  in  style,  vigorous  in  movement,  full  of  dramatic 
situations,  true  to  historic  perspective,  this  story  is  a 
capital  one  for  boys." — Watchman  Examiner,  New  York 
City. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  YELLOW- 

STONE;    Or,  Lost  in  the  Land  of  Wonders. 
"  There  is  plenty  of  lively  adventure  and  action  and 
the  story  is  well  told." — Duluth  Herald,  Duluth,  Minn. 

THE  PIONEER  BOYS  OF  THE  COLUMBIA; 

Or,  In  the  Wilderness  of  the  Great  Northwest. 

"  The  story  is  fuM  of  spirited  action  and  contains  mud" 
valuable  historical  information." — Boston  Herald. 
A— 4 


BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE 


THE  FRIENDLY  TERRACE  SERIES 

By  Harriet  Lummis  Smith 
Each  one  volume,  cloth,  decorative,  12mo,  illus- 
trated, per  volume  (except  as  otherwise  noted)     $1.65 

THE   GIRLS   OF  FRIENDLY   TERRACE 

"It  is  a  book  that  cheers,  that  inspires  to  higher 
thinking;  it  knits  hearts;  it  unfolds  neighborhood  plans 
in  a  way  that  makes  one  tingle  to  try  carrying  them 
out,  and  most  of  all  it  proves  that  in  daily  life,  threads 
of  wonderful  issues  are  being  woven  in  with  what 
appears  the  most  ordinary  of  material,  but  which  in 
the  end  brings  results  stranger  than  the  most  thrilling 
fiction." — Belle  Kellogg  Towne  in  The  Young  People's 
Weekly,  Chicago. 

PEGGY  RAYMOND'S   VACATION 

"It  is  a  clean,  wholesome,  hearty  story,  weld  told 
and  full  of  incident.  It  carries  one  through  experiences 
that  hearten  and  brighten  the  day." — Utica,  N.  Y., 
Observer. 

PEGGY   RAYMOND'S    SCHOOL   DAYS 

"  It  is  a  bright,  entertaining  story,  with  happy  girls, 
good  times,  natural  development,  and  a  gentle  earnest- 
ness of  general  tone." — The  Christian  Register,  Boston. 

THE  FRIENDLY  TERRACE  QUARTETTE 

"The  story  is  told  in  easy  and  entertaining  style 
and  is  a  most  delightful  narrative,  especially  for  young 
people.  It  will  also  make  the  older  readers  feel  younger, 
for  while  reading  it  they  will  surely  live  again  in  the 
days  of  their  youth." — Troy  Budget. 

PEGGY  RAYMOND'S  WAY  $1.75 

"  The  author  has  again  produced  a  story  that  is 
replete  with  wholesome  incidents  and  makes  Peggy 
more  lovable  than  ever  as  a  companion  and  leader." 
— World  of  Books. 

"It  possesses  a  plot  of  much  merit  and  through  its 
324  pages  it  weaves  a  tale  of  love  and  of  adventure 
whieh  ranks  it  among  the  best  books  for  giris." — Cohoes 
American. 
A— 5 


TEE  PAGE  COMPANY'S 


FAMOUS  LEADERS  SERIES 

By  Charles  H.  L.   Johnston 
Each  large  12mo}  cloth   decorative,  illustrated, 
•per  volume        .......     $2.00 

FAMOUS  CAVALRY  LEADERS 

"  More  of  such  books  should  be  written,  books  that 
acquaint  young  readers  with  historical  personages  in  a 
pleasant,  informal  way."  —  New  York  Sun. 

FAMOUS  INDIAN  CHIEFS 

"  Mr.  Johnston  has  done  faithful  work  in  this  volume, 
and  his  relation  of  battles,  sieges  and  struggles  of  these 
famous  Indians  with  the  whites  for  the  possession  of 
America  is  a  worthy  addition  to  United  States  History." 
—  Neio  York  Marine  Journal. 

FAMOUS  SCOUTS 

"  It  is  the  kind  of  a  book  that  will  have  a  great  fascina- 
tion for  boys  and  young  men."  —  New  London  Day. 

FAMOUS  PRIVATEERSMEN  AND  ADVEN- 
TURERS OF  THE  SEA 

"  The  tales  are  more  than  merely  interesting ;  they  are 
entrancing,  stirring  the  blood  with  thrilling  force."  — 
Pittsburgh  Post. 

FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN  AND  HEROES  OF 
THE  BORDER 

"  The  accounts  are  not  only  authentic,  but  distinctly 
readable,  making  a  book  of  wide  appeal  to  all  who  love 
the  history  of  actual  adventure."  —  Cleveland  Leader. 

FAMOUS  DISCOVERERS  AND  EXPLORERS 
OF  AMERICA 

"  The  book  is  an  epitome  of  some  of  the  wildest  and 
bravest  adventures  of  which  the  world  has  known."  — 
Brooklyn  Daily  Eagle. 

FAMOUS  GENERALS  OF  THE  GREAT  WAR 

Who  Led  the  United  States  and  Her  Allies  to  a  Glo- 
rious Victory. 

"The  pages  of  this  book  have  the  charm  of  romance 
without  its  unreality.     The  book  illuminates,  with  life- 
like portraits,  the  history  of  the  World  War."  —  Roches- 
ter Post  Express. 
A— 6 


BOOKS  FOR   YOUNG  PEOPLE 


FAMOUS    LEADERS    SERIES    (Con.) 

By  Edwin  Wildman 

FAMOUS    LEADERS    OF    INDUSTRY.— First 

Series 

"Are  these  stories  interesting?  Let  a  boy  read  them; 
and  tell  you.  He  will  pick  out  '  the  best  machine 
gun  in  the  world;'  the  man  who  worked  eighteen  to 
twenty  hours  a  day;  the  man  who  kodaked  the  earth; 
the  inventor  who  died  in  debt;  the  case  in  which  Lincoln 
earned  his  first  fee;  the  secret  of  Woolworth's  success 
and  the  man  who  says  '  I  can't  be  bothered  eating.' " — 
Boston  Transcript. 

FAMOUS  LEADERS  OF  INDUSTRY.— Second 
Series 

"  As  fascinating  as  fiction  are  these  biographies, 
which  emphasize  their  humble  beginning  and  drive 
home  the  truth  that  just  as  every  soldier  of  Napoleon 
carried  a  marshal's  baton  in  his  knapsack,  so  every 
American  youngster  carries  potential  success  under  his 
hat."— New  York  World. 

FAMOUS    LEADERS    OF    CHARACTER:    In 

America  from  the  Latter  Half  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century 
"  An    informing,   interesting   and   inspiring   book    for 

boys." — Presbyterian  Banner. 

"...  Is  a  book  that  should  be  read  by  every  boy  in 

the  whole  country.  .  .  .  " — Atlanta  Constitution. 

"  Opportunity  beckons  every  boy,  and  this  book  may 

suggest    the    route    to    be    followed.     It    is    well    worth 

reading." — Cortland  Standard. 

A— 7 


THE  PAGE  COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF  EVALEEN  STEIN 

THE  CHRISTMAS  PORRINGER 

12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Adelaide 

Everhart $1.50 

This  story  happened  many  hundreds  of  years  ago  in 
the  quaint  Flemish  city  of  Bruges  and  concerns  a  little 
girl  named  Karen,  who  worked  at  lace-making  with  her 
aged  grandmother. 

GABRIEL  AND  THE  HOUR  BOOK 

Small  quarto,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated   and 

decorated  in  colors  by  Adelaide  Everhart     .     .     $1.50 

"No  works  in  juvenile  fiction  contain  so  many  of  the 

elements  that  stir  the  hearts  of  children  and  grown-ups 

as   well    as    do    the   stories    so    admirably    told    by    this 

author." — Louisville  Daily  Courier. 

A  LITTLE  SHEPHERD  OF  PROVENCE 

12mo,   cloth  decorative,  illustrated   by   Diantha 

H.  Marlowe $1.50 

"The   story  should  be  one   of  the  influences   in    the 

life  of  every  child  to  whom  good  stories   can  be  made 

to  appeal." — Public  Ledger. 

THE  LITTLE  COUNT  OF  NORMANDY 

12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  John  Goss     $1.50 

"  This    touching    and    pleasing    story    is    told    with    a 

wealth  of  interest  coupled  with   enlivening  descriptions 

of   the    country   where    its    scenes    are   laid    and   of   the 

people  thereof." — Wilmington  Every  Evening. 

WHEN  FAIRIES  WERE  FRIENDLY 

Cloth  decorative,  12mo,  illustrated $1.65 

"  These  stories  are  written  for  children  in  the  '  believ- 
ing years,'  but  their  literary  value  is  so  distinct  that 
any  book  lover  is  enriched  by  their  possession." — The 
Herald,  Lexington,  Ky. 

"  The  stories  are  music  in  prose — they  are  like  pearls 
on  a  chain  of  gold — each  word  seems  exactly  the  right 
word  in  the  right  place;  the  stories  sing  themselves 
out,  they  are  so  beautifully  expressed." — The  Lafayette 
Leader. 
A— 8 


#^J 


'TRADEMARK 


